0/yi U8,

rz^

)g^.IIAH

CATH-LOn.l

Jiou'said ringal in tin- darl

PFBiLISHEl!) BY ffiliTHAlKE) iGKlF?1?r & f?

POEMS OF OSSIAN,

TRANSLATKD BY

JAMES MACPHERSON, ESQ.

TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. I.

PRINTED FOR RICHARD GRIFFIN & CO.
AND JOHN BUMPUS, LONDON.

1824.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME FIRST

Preface, -.-...-.-v

Life of James Macpherson, Esq. - - - - xii

A Dissertation concerning the Era of Ossian, - - xix

Cath-Loda — Duan First 1

^ ^ ^^^ Duan Second . . . - . 13

Duan Third 23

Comala, ----..--.31

Caric-Thura, 41

Carthon, 61

Oithona 81

Croma, 91

Oina.Morul, 103

Colna-Dona, . - - - . . . -Ill

Calthon and Cohnal, 119

The War of Caros, 131

Cathlin of Clutha, 143

Sul-malla of Liimon, 155

The War of Inis-thona, 167

The Songs of Selma, ...... 177

Fingal— Book First, 191

,,,,..^^ — Book Second, --.-.- 215

Book Third, 231

^. — Book Fourth, 249

— _ Book Fifth, 265

^Book Sixth, 279

Lathmon, 295

Dar-thula, 311

PREFACE.

Without increasing his genius, the Author may
have improved his language, in the thirteen years
that the following Poems have been in the hands
of the public. Errors in diction might have been
committed at twenty-four, which the experience of
a riper age may remove ; and some exuberances in
imageiy may be restrained, with advantage, by a
degi-ee of judgment acquired in the progi-ess of
time. Impressed with this opinion, he ran over the
whole with attention and accuracy ; and, he hopes,
he has brought the work to a state of coiTCCtness
Avhich will preclude all future improvements.

The eagerness with which these Poems have
been received abroad, is a recompense for the
coldness with which a few have affected to treat
them at home. All the polite nations of Europe
have transferred them into their respective lan-
guages; and they speak of him who brought

VOL. I. a

them to light, in terms that might flatter the vanity
of one fond of fame. In a convenient indifference
for a Hterary reputation, the Author hears praise
without being elevated, and ribaldry without being
depressed. He has frequently seen the first be-
stowed too precipitately ; and the latter is so faith-
less to its purpose, that it is often the only index
to merit in the present age.

Though the taste which defines genius by the
points of the compass, is a subject fit for mirth in
itself, it is often a serious matter in the sale of a
work. When rivers define the limits of abilities,
as well as the boundaries of countries, a writer
may measure his success by the latitude under
which he was bom. It was to avoid a part of
this inconvenience that the Author is said, by
some, who speak without any authority, to have
ascribed his own productions to another name.
If this was the case, he was but young in the art
of deception. When he placed the Poet in anti-
quity, the Translator should have been born on
this side of the Tweed.

These observations regard only the frivolous in
matters of literature ; these, however, form a ma-
jority in every age and nation. In this country,
men of genuine taste abound ; but their still voice
is diowned in the clamours of a multitude who

judge by fashion of poetry as of dress. The truth
is, to judge aright requires ahnost as much genius
as to write well ; and ^pod critics are as rare as
great poets. Though two hundred thousand Ro-
mans stood up when Virgil came into the Theatre,
Varius only could correct the j^neid. He that ob-
tains fame must receive it through mere fashion,
and gratify his vanity with the applause of men of
whose judgment he cannot approve.

The following Poems, it must be confessed, ai*e
more calculated to please persons of exquisite
feelings of heart, than those who receive all their
impressions by the ear. The novelty of cadence,
in what is called a prose version, though not desti-
tute of harmony, will not to common readers sup-
ply the absence of the frequent returns of rhyme
This was the opinion of the Writer himself, though
he yielded to the judgment of others in a mode
which presents freedom and dignity of expression,
instead of fetters, which cramp the thought^ whilst
the harmony of language is preserved. His inten-
tion was to publish in verse. The making of
poetr)^, like any other handicraft, may be learned
by industry ; and he had served his apprenticeship,
though in secret, to the Muses.

It is, however, doubtful, whether the harmony
which these Poems might derive fiom rhpne, even

viii PREFACE.

in much better hands than those of the Translator,
could atone for the simplicity and energy which
they would lose. The determination of this point
shall be left to the readers of this Preface. The
following is the beginning of a Poem, translated
from the Norse to the Gaelic language, and from
the latter transferred into English. The verse
took little more time to the Writer than the prose ;
and even he himself is doubtful (if he has suc-
ceeded in either) which of them is the most literal
version.

FRAGMENT

A NORTHERN TALE.

Where Harold, with golden hair, spread o'er
Lochlin * his high commands ; where, with justice,
he ruled the tribes, sunk, subdued, beneath his
sword ; abnipt rises Gormal \ in snow ! The
tempests roll dark on his sides, but calm, above,
his vast forehead appears. White-issuing from the
skirt of his storms, the troubled torrents pour

* The Gaelic name of Scandinavia, or Scandinia.
t The mountains of Sevo.

PREFACE. ix

down his sides. Joining, as they roai' along, they
bear the Torno, in foam, to the main.

Gray, on the bank, and far from men, half co-
vered, by ancient pines, from the wind, a lonely
pile exalts its head, long shaken by the storms of
the north. To this fled Sigurd, fierce in fight,
from Harold the leader of armies, when fate had
brightened his spear with renown ; when he con-
quered in that rude field, where Lulan's war-
riors fell in blood, or rose in teiTor on the
waves of the main. Darkly sat the gray-haii-ed
chief; yet sorrow dwelt not in his soul. But
when the wairior thought on the past, his proud
heart heaved against his side : forth flew his sword
from its place, he wounded Harold in all the
winds.

One daughter, and only one, but bright in form
and mild of soul, the last beam of the setting line,
remained to Sigurd of all his race. His son, in
Lulan's battle slain, beheld not his father's flight
from his foes. Nor finished seemed the ancient
line ! The splendid beauty of bright-eyed Fithon
covered still the fallen king with renown. Her
arm was white, like Gormal's snow; her bosom
whiter than the foam of the main, when roll the
waves beneath the ^^Tath of the winds. Like two
stars were her radiant eyes, like two stars that rise
a 2

on the deep, when dark tumuh embroils the night.
Pleasant are their beams aloft, as stately they as-
cend the skies.

Nor Odin forgot, in aught, the maid. Her
form scarce equalled her lofty mind. Awe moved
around her stately steps. Heroes loved — but
shmnk away in their fears. Yet midst the pride
of all her charms, her heart was soft and her soul
was kind. She saw the mournful with tearftil
eyes. Transient darkness arose in her breast.
Her joy was in the chase. Each morning, when
doubtful light wandered dimly on Lulan's waves,
she roused the resounding woods, to Gormal's
head of snow. Nor moved the maid alone, &c.

THE SAME VERSIFIED.

Where fair-haired Harold, o'er Scandinia reigned.
And held, with justice, what his valour gained,
Sevo, in snow, his i-ugged forehead rears.
And, o'er the warfare of his storms, appears
Abrupt and vast. — White- wandering down his side
A thousand torrents, gleaming as they gUde,
Unite below ; and, pouring through the plain.
Hurry the troubled Tonio to the main.

Gray, on the bank, remote from human kind,
By aged pines half-sheltered from the wind.

PREFACE. xi

A homely mansion rose, of antique form,

For ages battered by the polar storm.

To this fierce Sigurd fled, from Norway's lord,

When fortune settled on the warrior's sword.

In that rude field where Suecia's chiefs were slain.

Or forced to wander o'er the Bothnic main.

Dark was his life, yet undisturbed with woes.

But when the memory of defeat arose.

His proud heart stmck his side ; he grasped the spear,

And wounded Harold in the vacant air.

One daughter only, but of form divine,
The last fair beam of the departing line.
Remained of Sigurd's race. His warlike son
Fell in the shock Avhich overturned the throne.
Nor desolate the house ! Fiona's charms
Sustained the glory which they lost in arms.
White was her arm, as Sevo's lofty snow,
Her bosom fairer than the waves below,
When heaving to the winds. Her radiant eyes.
Like two bright stars, exulting as they rise.
O'er the dark tumult of a stormy night.
And gladdening heaven with their majestic light.

In nought is Odin to the maid unkind,
Her form scarce equals her exalted mind ;

xii PREFACE.

Awe leads her sacred steps where'er they move,
And mankind worship where they dare not love.
But mixed with softness was the virgin's pride,
Her heart had feelings which her eyes denied.
Her bright tears started at another's woes.
While transient darkness on her soul arose.

The chase she lov'd; when morn with doubtful
beam,
Came dimly wandering o'er the Bothnic stream,
On Sevo's sounding sides she bent the bow,
And roused his forests to his head of snow.
Nor moved the maid alone, &c.

One of the chief improvements on this edition is
the care taken in arranging the Poems in the order
of time, so as to form a kind of regular history of
the age to which they relate. The Writer has
now resigned them for ever to their fate. That
they have been well received by the Public, ap-
pears from an extensive sale; that they shall con-
tinue to be well received, he may venture to pro-
phecy, without the gift of that inspkation to which
poets lay claim. Through the medium of version
upon version, they retain, in foreign languages,
their native character of simplicity and energy.
Genuine poetry, like gold, loses little, when pro-

perly transfused ; but when a composition cannot
bear the test of a Hteral version, it is a counterfeit
which ought not to pass cuiTent. The operation
must, however, be performed with skilful hands.
A Translator who cannot equal his original, is in-
capable of expressing its beauties.

London, Aug. 15, 1773.

LIFE

JAMES MACPHERSON, ESQ.

James Macpherson, related to the chief of
the clan of that name in the Highlands of Scotland,
was born in 1738, at Ruthven, in the county of
Inverness. He studied at the Universities of Aber-
deen and Edinburgh ; at the latter of which, in
1758, he printed a poem entitled " The Highlander,"
which displayed some fire and fancy, but as yet un-
disciplined by taste. He appears to have been design-
ed for the church, but was never settled in any cure ;
and in 1760, he was living as private tutor in the
family of Mr. Graham, of Balgowan. About this
time he sm-prised the literary world by publishing
" Fragments of Ancient Poetry, collected in the
Highlands of Scotland, and translated from the
Gaelic or Erse Language." The singularity of
these pieces, the novelty of their style and ima-
gery, and the idea that they were the product of a
remote age and rude people, caused them to be
received with great interest by many lovers of po-
etry ; and as hopes Avere given of the recovery of
other remains of the kind, a subscription was set

xvi LIFE OF MACPHERSON.

on foot to enable Macpherson to leave liis employ-
ment, and visit the Highlands for that purpose.
Of this mission, or of his leisure, the fruit was the
Epic poem of " Fingal," with several other poems,
said to be composed by Ossian, the son of Fingal,
king of the Highlands. The next year brought
forth " Temora," an Epic poem, with other smaller
ones, also in the name of Ossian. A warm con-
troversy was soon kindled relative to their authen-
ticity, in which the Scotch were in general on the
side favoui'able to the national honour, whilst many
oppugners arose in the southern part of the island.
The improbability of the existence and preservation
of regular Epic poems among an uncivilized people
who had not the use of letters, the abundance of poe-
tic oiTiament, and the elevation and delicacy of moral
sentiment, together with the freedom from all mix-
ture of puerility and extravagance, were regarded by
the unprejudiced as strong presumptions against
their being real specimens of ancient Erse poetry.
Meantime they met with a number of enthusiastic
admirers, not only in Great Britain, but on the
continent, into several languages of which they
were translated. They were commented upon by
critics, and admitted as evidence of manners and
customs by historians and antiquaries. The blind
Ossian was placed next to the blind Homer, and
the mountains and heaths of the Highlands were
converted into classic ground. A state of uncer-
tainty respecting works become so famous, could
not be permitted to last, and the originals were
loudly called for. Expectations were frequently
given of their appearance, but were not fulfilled ;

LIFE OF MACPHERSON. xvii

and the supposed translator, instead of convincing
or conciliating the sceptical, attempted to silence
them by a tone of aiTogant assumption. For this
he was severely chastised by Dr. Johnson in his
Tour to Scotland ; and a menacing letter which
this attack provoked from Macpherson, was re-
torted by the great author in terms of defiance.
The controversy, however, continued during the
life of Macpherson, and can scarcely be said to be
yet terminated ; although the masterly discussion
of the topic by Mr Laing seems to have produced
a general opinion that at least the gi-eat mass of
the poems is modem fiction ; and curiosity is now
mostly limited to the inquiiy how fai" it may have
had a foundation in the traditionary stories still
current in the Highlands.

To resume our biogiaphical narrative, the course
of which has been anticipated by pursuing one
subject : Mr. Macpherson, who was found to have
talents for business as well as for invention, was
taken in 1764, by governor Johnson, to Pensacola
in Florida, as his secretary. After executing his
office in settling the government of that colony, he
visited several of the West India islands, and some
of the North American provinces, and returned in
1766. Resuming his literary pui'suits, he published
in 1771, "An Introduction to the History' of
Great Britain and Ireland," quarto. This work is
elegantly written, and contains much valuable mat-
ter ; but its partiality to Celtic origin brought upon
the author some controversial attacks in a strain
of illiberal invective. The success of his Ossian
tempted him to undertake a task from which he

VOL. I. b

xviii LIFE OF 3IACPIIEIISON.

derived neitlier profit nor reputation. This was
a " Translation of the Iliad of Homer," in two
volumes quarto, 1773 ; written in the same kind
of poetic and disjointed prose in which his Erse
remains were given. At its first ap])earance it un-
derwent a storm of ridicule and criticism, and was
soon dismissed to total ohlivion. From this period
he seems to have confined himself to historical and
political composition ; and such was his industry,
that in 1775, he published " The History of Great
Britain, from the Restoration to the Accession
of the House of Hanover," two volumes quarto.
It Avas accompanied with two other volumes quarto
of " Original Papers," serving as documents and
authorities for the History : these were chiefly
such as had been collected by Carte, the historian,
from the Stuart papers in the Scotch college at
Paris, and the papers of the house of Brunswick
Lunenburgh in the possession of Mr. Duane ; but
many were added which had been procured by Mr.
Macpherson himself. Although in this publication
the author discovered a considerable predilection
for the Stuart family, and appeared to have placed
too much confidence in the representations of facts
made by James II. in the manuscript memoirs of
his own life, yet it certainly made a very valuable
addition to the knowledge of that important part
of English history. By a critic by no means
prejudiced in favour of the writer or his party, it
is denominated " a work of great importance and
merit : in which a number of facts, hitherto un-
known or much mistaken, are set in a just, as Avell
as in a striking light ; of which the cliaracters are

LIFE OF 31AC;PHERt>()N. xix

drawn with ingenuity, and the reflections are often
profound and judicious."

Whatever offence he might have given to tlie
zealous friends of civil liberty, he was far from
ha^ang- injured himself in the opinion of those Avho
at that time conducted the government of the
country ; and when the resistance of the Ameri-
cans called forth the pen, as well as the sword, of
authority, his A\as engaged as one of the ablest.
His pamphlet entitled " The rights of Great Bri-
tain asserted against the claims of the Colonies,"
1776, obtained great applause for its force of
style and arg-ument, and was industiiously circu-
lated. He also vrrote " A short History of the
Opposition during the last Session of Parliament,"
1779, which Avas much admired; and it is proba-
ble that his assistance was given to government in
other political pieces. His services received an
ample reward in the lucrative post of agent to the
nabob of Arcot, whose concerns with the East
India company were at this time multifarious and
perplexed. Mr. Macpherson wrote several appeals
to the public in behalf of this potentate ; and it
being thought necessaiy that the nabob should have
a representative in the house of commons, he was
returned in 1780, for the Borough of Camelford,
and was re-elected in 1784 and 1790. His health
now declining-, he retired for the benefit of his na-
tive air to a seat which he had built, called Belle-
vue, near Inverness, Avhere he died in Februaiy,
1796. His exertions were productive of opulence ;
and among his bequests was the sum of one thou-
sand pounds to defray the expense of printing and

XX LIFE OF MACPHERSON.

publishing the original Ossian. He also directed
three hundred pounds to be laid out in a monument
of him, to be erected in a conspicuous situation at
Bellevue ; and he ordered his remains to be interred
in Westminster Abbey, where they were according-
ly deposited in Poet's-comer. It is scarcely to be
imagined that this distinction was claimed for him
in the capacity of a translator.

DISSERTATION

FAW OF OSSIAN.

1) 2

DISSERTATION,

4-c.

Inquiries into the antiquities of nations afford
more pleasure than any real advantage to mankind.
The ingenious may form systems of history on
probabilities and a few facts; but, at a gi'eat dis-
tance of time, their accounts must be vague and
uncertain. The infancy of states and kingdoms is
as destitute of great events, as of the means of
transmitting them to posterity. The arts of po-
lished life, by which alone facts can be preserved
with certainty, are the production of a well-formed
community. It is then historians begin to WTite,
and public transactions to be worthy remembrance.
The actions of former times are left in obscurity,
or magnified by uncertain traditions. Hence it is
that we find so much of the marvellous in the ori-
gin of every nation; posterity being always ready
to believe any thing, however fabulous, that re-
flects honour on their ancestors.

xxiv A DISSERTATION ON

The Greeks and Romans were remarkable for
this weakness. Tliey swallowed the most absurd
fables concerning the high antiquities of their respec-
tive nations. Good historians, however, rose very
early amongst them, and transmitted, with lustre,
their great actions to posterity. It is to them that
they owe that unrivalled fame they now enjoy,
while the gi'eat actions of other nations are involved
in fables, or lost in obscurity. The Celtic nations
afford a striking instance of this kind. They,
though once the masters of Europe, from the
mouth of the river Oby * in Russia, to Cape Fi-
nisterre, the western point of Gallicia in Spain, are
very little mentioned in history. They trusted
their fame to tradition, and the songs of their
bai'ds, which, by the vicissitude of human affairs,
are long since lost. Their ancient language is the
only monument that remains of them; and the
traces of it being found in places so widely distant
from each other, serves only to show the extent of
their ancient power, but throws very little light on
their history.

Of all the Celtic nations, tliat which possessed
old Gaul is the most renowned; not perhaps on
account of worth superior to the rest, but for their
wars with a people who had historians to transmit
the fame of their enemies, as Avell as their own, to
posterity. Britain was first peopled by them, ac-
cording to the testimony of the best authors; f its

7 Ca^s. 1. 5. Tac. Agric. c. 2.

THE ERA OF OSSIAN. xxv

situation in respect to Gaul makes the opinion
probable; but what puts it beyond all dispute, is,
that the same customs and language prevailed
among the inhabitants of both in the days of
Julius Csesar.*

The colony from Gaul possessed themselves, at
first, of that part of Britain which was next to
their own country; and spreading northward by
degrees, as they increased in numbers, peopled the
whole island. Some adventurers passing over
from those parts of Britain that are within sight
of Ireland, were the founders of the Irish nation ;
which is a more probable story than the idle fa-
bles of Milesian and Gallician colonies. Diodorus
Siculusf mentions it as a thing well knownyn his
time, that the inhabitants of Ireland were original-
ly Britons; and his testimony is unquestionable,
when we consider that, for many ages, the lan-
guage and customs of both nations were the same^

Tacitus was of opinion that the ancient Caledo-
nians were of German extract ; but even the an-
cient Germans themselves were Gauls. The pre-
sent Germans, properly so called, were not the
same with the ancient Celtae. The maimers and
customs of the two nations were similar; but their
language different. The Germans ij: are the ge-
nuine descendants of the ancient Scandinavians,
who crossed, in an early period, the Baltic. The

• Cseear. Pomp. Mel. Tacitus.

t Diod. Sic. 1. 5. t Strabo, 1. 7.

xxvi A DISSERTATION ON

Celta3, * aiicleatly, sent many colonies into Ger-
many, all of whom retained tlieir own laws, lan-
guage, and customs, till tliey were dissipated in the
Roman Empire; and it is of them, if any colonies
came fi'om Germany into Scotlar.d, that the an-.
cient Caledonians were descended.

But whether the Caledonians wei"e a colony of
the Celtic Germans, or the same with the Gauls
that first possessed themselves of Britain, is a mat-
ter of no moment at this distance of time. What-^
ever their origin was, we find them very numerous
in the time of Julius Agricola, which is a pre-
sumption that they were long hefore settled in the
country. The form of their government was a
mixture of aristocracy and monarchy, as it was in
all the countries where the Druids bore the chief
sway. This order of men seems to Iiave been
formed on the same principles with the Dactyli,
Idae, and Curetes of the ancients. Their pretend-
ed intercourse with heaven, their magic and devin-
ation were the same. The knowledge of the
Druids in natural causes, and the properties of
certain things, the fruit of tlie experiments of ages,
gained them a mighty reputation among the peo-
ple. The esteem of the populace soon increased
into a veneration for the order; which these cun-
ning and ambitious priests took care to improve to
such a degi-ee, that they, in a manner, engi'ossed
the management of civil as well as religious mat-

« Ca.'s. l.(j. Liv. 1. 5. Tac de Mor. Germ.

THE ERA OF OSS I AX. xxvii

ters. It is generally allowed that they did not
abuse this extraordinary power; the preserving
their character of sanctity was so essential to their
influence, that they never broke out into violence
or oppression. The chiefs were allowed to exe-
cute the laws, but the legislative power was en-
tirely in the hands of the Druids.* It was by
their authority that the tribes were united, in times
of the greatest danger, under one head. This tem-
porary king, or Vergobretus, f was chosen by
them, and generally laid down his office at the end
of the war. These priests enjoyed long this ex-
traordinary privilege among tiie Celtic nations who
lay beyond the pale of the Roman Empire. It
was in the beginning of the second century that
their power among the Caledonians began to de-
cline. The traditions concerning Trathal and Cor-
mac, ancestors to Fingal, are full of the particidars
of the fall of the Druids: a singular fate, it must
be owned, of priests Avho had once established
their superstition.

The continual wars of the Caledonians against
the Romans, hindered the better sort from initiat-
ing themselves, as the custom formerly was, into
the order of the Druids. The precepts of their
religion were confined to a few, and were not mucli
attended to by a people inured to war. The
Vergobretus, or chief magistrate, was chosen with-
out the concun-ence of the heirarchy, or continued
in his office against their will. Continual power

t Fer gubreth, the man to Judge.

xxviii A DISSERTATION ON

strengthened his interest among the tribes, and
enabled him to send down, as hereditary, to his
posterity, the office lie had only received himself
by election.

On occasion of a new war against the King of
the ivorld, as tradition emphatically calls the Ro-
man emperor, the Druids, to vindicate the honour
of the order, began to resume their ancient privi-
lege of choosing the Vergobretus. Garmal, the
son of Tarno, being deputed by them, came to the
grandfather of the celebrated Fingal, who was then
Vergobretus, and commanded him, in the name of
the whole order, to lay down his office. Upon his
refusal, a civil war commenced, which soon ended
in almost the total extinction of the religious order
of the Druids. A few that remained, retired to
the dark recesses of their groves, and the caves
they had formerly used for their meditations. It
is then we find them in the circle of sto?ies, and
unheeded by the world. A total disregard for the
order, and utter abhorrence of the Druidical rites
ensued. Under this cloud of public hate, all that
had any knowledge of the religion of the Druids
became extinct, and the nation fell into the last
degree of ignorance of their rites and ceremonies.
It is no matter of wonder, then, that Fingal,
and his son, Ossian, disliked the Dioiids, who were
the declared enemies to their succession in the
supreme magistracy. It is a singular case, it
must be allowed, that there are no traces of re-
ligion in the poems ascribed to Ossian; as the
poetical compositions of other nations are so

THE ERA OF OSSIAN. xxix

closely connected with their mythology. But
gods are not necessary, wlien the poet has genius.
— It is hard to account for it to those who are
not made acquainted with the manner of the old
Scotish bards. That race of men carried their
notions of martial honour to an extravagant pitch.
Any aid given tlieir heroes in battle, was thought
to derogate from their fame; and the bards im-
mediately transferred the glory of the action to
him who had given that aid.

Had the poet brought down gods as often as
Homer hath done to assist his heroes, his work
had not consisted of eulogiums on men, but of
hymns to superior beings. Those who T\Tite in
the Gaelic language, seldom mention religion in
their profane poetiy; and when they professedly
"wiite of religion, they never mix with their com-
positions the actions of their heroes. This cus-
tom alone, even though the religion of the Druids
had not been previously extinguished, may, in
some measure, excuse the author's silence con-
cerning the rehgion of ancient times.

To allege that a nation is void of all religion,
would betray ignorance of the history of mankind.
The traditions of their fathers, and their own ob-
servations on the works of nature, together with
that superstition which is inherent in the human
frame, have, in all ages, raised in the minds of
men, some idea of a superior being. Hence it
is, that, in the darkest times, and amongst the
most barbarous nations, the very populace them-
selves had some faint notion, at least, of a di-

VOL. I. c

XXX A DISSERTATION ON

vinity. The Indians, who worship no God, believe
that he exists. It would be doing injustice to the
author of these poems, to think that he had not
opened his conceptions to that primitive and great-
est of all truths. But let his religion be what it
will, it is certam he has not alluded to Christiani-
ty, or any of its rites, in his poems, which ought
to fix his opinions, at least, to an era prior to that
religion. Conjectures on this subject must supply
the place of proof. The persecution begun by
Dioclesian in the year 303, is the most probable
time in which the first dawning of Christianity in
the north of Britain can be fixed. The humane
and mild character of Constantius Chlorus, aaIio
commanded them in Britain, induced the persecut-
ed Christians to take refuge under him. Some of
them, through a zeal to propagate their tenets, or
through fear, went beyond the pale of the Roman
empii'e, and settled among the Caledonians, who
were ready to hearken to their doctrines, as the
i-eligion of the Druids was exploded long before.

These missionaries, either through choice, or to
give more weight to the doctrine they advanced, took
possession of the cells and groves of the Druids; and
it was from this retired life they had the name of
Culdees* which, in the language of the country,
signified, sequestered persojis. It was with one of
the Culdees that Ossian, in his extreme old age,
is said to have disputed concerning the Christian

THE ERA OF OSSIAN. xxxi

reliffion. This dispute, they say, is extant, and is
couched in verse, according to the custom of the
times. The extreme ignorance on the part of Os-
sian, of the Christian tenets, shows that that reli-
gion had only been lately introduced, as it is not
easy to conceive how one of the first rank could
be totally unacquainted with a religion that had
been known for any time in the country. The
dispute bears the genuine marks of antiquity. The
obsolete phrases and expressions peculiar to the
times, prove it to be no forgery. If Ossian, then,
lived at the introduction of Christianity, as, by all
appearance, he did, his epoch will be the latter end
of the third, and beginning of the fourth centuiy.
Tradition here steps in Avith a kind of proof.

The exploits of Fingal against Caracul, * son of
the k'mg of the world, are among the first brave
actions of his youth. A complete poem, which
relates to this subject, is printed in this collection.

In the year 210, the Emperor Severus, after re-
turning from his expedition against the Caledoni-
ans, at York, fell into the tedious illness of Avhich
he afterwards died. The Caledonians and Maiatae,
resuming courage from his indisposition, took arms
in order to recover the possessions they had lost.
The enraged emperor commanded his army to
march into their country, and to destroy it Avith
fire and sword. His orders were but ill executed,

• Carachuil, terrible eye. Carac'healla, terrible look. Ca-
rac-challamh, a sort of upper garment

xxxii A DISSERTATION ON

for his son, Caracalla, was at the head of the army,
and his thoughts were entirely taken up with the
hopes of his father's death, and with schemes to
supplant his brother Geta. He scarcely had en-
tered the enemy's country, when news was brought
him that Severus was dead. A sudden peace is
patched up with the Caledonians, and, as it ap-
pears from Dion Cassius, the country they had lost
to Sevenis was restored to them.

The Caracul of Fingal is no other than Caracal-
la, who, as the son of Severus, the Emperor of
Rome, whose dominions were extended almost
over the known world, was, not without reason,
called the son of the king of the world. The space
of time between 211, the year Severus died, and
the beginning of the fourth century, is not so
great, but Ossian, the son of Fingal, might have
seen the Christians whom the persecution under
Dioclesian had driven beyond the pale of the Ro-
man empire.

In one of the many lamentations on the death of
Oscar, a battle which he fought against Caros,
king of ships, on the banks of the winding Ca-
run,* is mentioned among his gi-eat actions. It
is more than probable that the Caros mentioned
here, is the same with the noted usurper Carau-
siuSj Avho assumed the purple in the year 287, and
seizing on Britain, defeated the Emperor Maxi-
minian Herculius, in several naval engagements,

* Car-avon, Jf'inding river.

THE ERA OF OSSIAN. xxxlli

which gives propriety to his being called the king
of ships. The winding Carun is that small river
retaining still the name of Carron, and rmis in the
neighl)omhood of Agricola's wall, wliich Carausius
repaired to obstruct the incm'sions of the Caledo-
nians. Several other passages in tradition, allude
to the wars of the Romans; but the two just men-
tioned clearly fix the epocha of Fingal to the third
century; and this account agi'ees exactly with the
Irish histories, which place the death of Fingal, the
son of Comhal, in the year 283, and that of Os-
car, and their o\\ti celebrated Cairbre, in the year
296.

Some people may imagine that the allusions to
the Roman history might have been derived by
tradition from learned men, more than from an-
cient poems. This must then have happened at
least three ages ago, as these allusions are men-
tioned often in the compositions of those times.

Every one knows what a cloud of ignorance and
barbarism overspread the north of Europe three
hundred years ago. The minds of men addicted
to superstition, contracted a naiTOwness that de-
stroyed genius. Accordingly, we find the compo-
sitions of those times trivial and puerile to the
last degree. But let it be allowed, that amidst all
the untoward circumstances of the age, a genius
might arise, it is not easy to determine what could
induce him to allude to the Roman times. We
find no fact to favour any designs which could be
entertained by any man who lived in the fifteenth
century.

c 2

xxxiv A DISSERTATION ON

The strongest objection to the antiquity of the
poems now given to the public under the name of
Ossian, is the improbabihty of their being handed
down by tradition through so many centuries.
Ages of barbarism, some will say, could not pro-
duce poems abounding with the disinterested and
generous sentiments so conspicuous in the compo-
sitions of Ossian ; and could these ages produce
them, it is impossible but they must be lost, or al-
together corrupted in a long succession of barba-
rous generations.

These objections naturally suggest themselves
to men unacquainted with the ancient state of the
northern parts of Britain. The bards, who were
an inferior order of the Draids, did not share their
bad fortune. They were spared by the victorious
king, as it was through their means only he could
hope for immortality to his fame. They attended
him in the camp, and contributed to establish his
power by their songs. His great actions were
magnified, and the populace, who had no ability to
examine into his character narrowly, were dazzled
with his fame in the rhymes of the bards. In the
mean time, men assumed sentiments that were
rarely to be met Avith in an age of barbarism. The
bards, who were originally the disciples of the
Druids, had their minds opened and their ideas
enlarged by being initiated in the learning of that
celebrated order. They could form a perfect hero
in their own minds, and ascribe that character to
their prince. The inferior chiefs made this ideal
character the model of their conduct, and, by dc-

THE ERA OF OSSIAN. xxxv

grees, brought their minds to that generous spirit
which breathes in all the poetiy of the times. The
prince, flattered by his bards, and rivalled by his
own heroes, who imitated his character, as de-
scribed in the eulogies of his poets, endeavoured
to excel his people in merit, as he was above them
in station. This emulation continuing, formed, at
last, the general character of the nation, happily
compounded of what is noble in barbarity, and
virtuous and generous in a polished people.

When vii-tue in peace, and bravery in war, are
the characteristics of a nation, their actions become
interesting, and their fame worthy of immortaUty.
A generous spirit is warmed Avith noble actions,
and becomes ambitious of perpetuating them. This
is the true source of that divine inspiration, to
which the poets of all ages pretended. When they
found their themes inadequate to the warmth of
their imaginations, they varnished them over with
fables, supplied by their own fancy, or fm'nished
by absurd traditions. These fables, however ridi-
culous, had their abettors ; posterity either impli-
citly believed them, or, through a vanity natural
to mankind, pretended that they did. They loved
to place the founders of their families in the days of
fable, when poetry, without the fear of contradic-
tion, could give what characters she pleased of her
heroes. It is to this vanity that we owe the preser-
vation of what remain of the more ancient poems.
Their poetical merit made their heroes famous in
a country where heroism was much esteemed
c 2

xxxvi A DISSERTATION ON

and admired. The posterity of those heroes, or
those who pretended to he descended from them,
heard with pleasure the eulogiums of their an-
cestors : bards were employed to repeat the
poems, and to record the connection of their
patrons with chiefs so renowned. Every chief,
in process of time, had a bard in liis family,
and the office became at last hereditary. By
the succession of these bards, the poems con-
cerning the ancestors of the family were hand-
ed down fiom generation to generation; they
were repeated to the whole clan on solemn occa-
sions, and always alluded to in the new composi-
tions of the bards. This custom came down to
near our own times ; and, after the bards were
discontinued, a great number in a clan retained by
memory, or committed to writing, their compo-
sitions, and founded the antiquity of their families
on the authority of their poems.

The use of letters was not known in the north
of Europe till long after the institution of the
bards ; the records of the families of their patrons,
their own, and more ancient poems, were handed
down by tradition. Their poetical compositions
were admirably contrived for that purpose. They
were adapted to music; and the most perfect har-
mony was observed. Each verse was so connect-
ed with those which preceded or followed it, that
if one line had been remembered in a stanza, it
was almost impossible to forget the rest. The
cadences followed in so natural a gradation, and

THE ERA OF OSSIAN. xxxvii

the words were so adapted to the common turn of
the voice, after it is raised to a certain key, that it
was almost impossible, from a similarity of soimd,
to substitute one word for another. This excel-
lence is peculiar to the Celtic tongue, and is,
perhaps, to be met with in no other language.
Nor does this choice of words clog the sense, or
weaken the expression. The numerous flexions of
consonants, and variation in declension, make the
language very copious.

The descendants of the Celtae, who inhabited
Britain and its isles, were not singular in this
method of preserving the most precious monu-
ments of their nation. The ancient laws of the
Greeks were couched in verse, and handed down
by tradition. The Spartans, through a long habit,
became so fond of this custom, that they would
never allow their laws to be committed to writing.
The actions of great men, and the eulogiums of
kings and heroes, were preserved in the same
manner. All the historical monuments of the
old Germans were comprehended in their ancient
songs ; * which were either hymns to their gods, or
elegies in praise of their heroes; and were intend-
ed to perpetuate the great events in their nation,
which were carefully interwoven with them. This
species of composition was not committed to

Tacitus lie Mor. Germ.

xxxviii A DI8SERTy\TI()N ON

wiiting, but delivered by oral tradition.* The
care they took to have the poems taught to their
children, the uninterrupted custom of repeating
them upon certain occasions, and the happy mea-
sure of the verse, served to preserve them for a
long time, uncorrupted. This oral chronicle of
the Germans was not forgot in the eighth century;
and it probably would have remained to this day,
had not learning, which thinks every thing that is
not committed to writing fabulous, been introduc-
ed. It was from poetical traditions that Garcil-
lasso composed his account of the Yncas of Peru.
The Peruvians had lost all other monuments of
their history; and it was from ancient poems,
which his mother, a princess of the blood of the
Yncas, taught him in his youth, that he collected
the materials of his history. If other nations,
then, that had been often oveiTun by enemies, and
had sent abroad and received colonies, could for
many ages preserve, by oral tradition, their laws
and histories uncorrupted, it is much more probable
that the ancient Scots, a people so free of inter-
mixture with foreigners, and so strongly attached
to the memory of their ancestors, had the works of
their bards handed down with great purity.

Wliat is advanced in this short Dissertation, it
must be confessed, is mere conjecture. Beyond
the reach of records, is settled a gloom which no

► Abbe (ie la Bletelric, Rcmarqius sur la Gcnnanw-

Tin: ERA OF OSSIAN. xxxix

ingenuity can penetrate. The manners described
in these poems suit the ancient Cehic times, and
no otiier period tliat is known in liistory. We
must, therefore, place the heroes far back in anti-
quity; and it matters little who were their con-
temporaries in other parts of the world. If we
have placed Fingal in his proper period, we do
honour to the manners of barbarous times. He
exercised every manly virtue in Caledonia,
while Heliogabalus disgraced human nature at
Rome.

CATH-LODA

^ Poem.

DUAN FIRST.

ARGUMENT.

Fingal^ "when very youngs making a voyage to the Orkney
Islands^ was driven^ hy stress of weather, into a bay of
Scandinavia, near the residence of Starno, king of Loch-
lin. Starno invites Fingal to a feast. Fingal, doubting
the faith of the king, and, mindful of a former breach of
Jiospitality, refuses to go. — Starno gathers together his
tribes : Fingal resolves to defend himself. — Night com-
ing on, Duth-maruno /proposes to Fingal to observe the
motions of the enemy — the king himself undertakes the
watch. Advancing towards the enemy, he, accidentally,
comes to the cave of Turthor, where Starno had confined
Conban-carglas, the captive daughter of a neighbouring
chief. — Her story is imperfect, a part of the original being
lost. — Fingal comes to a place of worship, where Starno and
his son, Swaran, consulted the spirit of Loda, concerning
the issue of the war — The rencounter of Fingal and Swa-
ran. Duan first concludes with a description of the airy
hall ofCruth-loda, supposed to be the Odin of Scandinavia.

CATH-LODA.

DUAN * FIRST.

A TALE of the times of old !

Why, thou wanderer unseen ! Thou bender of
the thistle of Lora ; why, thou breeze of the valley,
hast thou left mine ear '^ I hear no distant roar

» The bards distinguished those compositions, in which the narra-
tion is often interrupted by episode s and apostrophes, by tlie name of
Duan. Since the exsinction of the order of the bards, it has been a
general name for all ancient compositions in verse. The abrupt manner
in which the story of this poem begins may render it obscure to some
readers ; it may not, therefore, be improper to give here the traditional
preface which is generally prefixed to it. Two years after he took to
wife, Ros-crana, the daughter of Cormac, king of Ireland, Fingal un-
dertook an expedition into Orkney, to visit his friend CathuUa king of
Inistore. After staying a few days at Carric-thura, the residence of
Cathulla, the king set sail, to return to Scollaud; but, a violent storm
arising, his ships were driven into a bay of Scandinavia, near Gornial,
the seat of Staruo, king of Lochlin, his avowed enemy. Starno, upon
the appearance of strangers on his coast, summoned together the neigli-
bouring tribes, and advanced, in a hostile manner, towards the bay of
U-thorna, where Fingal had taken shelter. Upon discovering who the
strangers were, and fearing the valour of Fingal, which he had more
than once experienced before, he resolved to accomplish by treachery,
what he was afraid he should fail in by open force. He invited, there-
fore, Fingal to a feast, at whicli he intended to assassinate him. The
king prudently declined to go, and Starno betook himself to arms. The
sequel of the story may be learned from the poem itself.

CATH-LODA,

Fiiigal declir.es Stamo's in-vitaUon to the feast of shells.

of streams ! No sound of the hai-p, from the rock !
Come, tliou liuntress of Lutha, Malvina, call back
liis soul to the bard. I look forward to Lochlin of
lakes, to the dark, billowy bay of Uthorno, where
Fingal descends from Ocean, fi'om the roar of winds.
Few are the heroes of Morven, in a land unknown !
Starno sent a dweller of Loda, to bid Fingal to
the feast ; but the king remembered the past, and
all his rage arose. " Nor Gormal's mossy towers,
nor Starno, shall Fingal behold. Deaths wander,
like shadows, over his fiery soul ! Do I forget
that beam of light, the white-handed daughter * of
kings ? Go, son of Loda, his A\^ords are wind to
Fingal : wind, that, to and fro, drives the thistle in
autumn's dusky vale. Duth-maruno, t arm of
Death ! Crommaglas, of iron shields ! Struthmor,
dweller of battle's Aving ! Cormar, whose ships
bound on seas, careless as the course of a meteor,

* Agandecca, the daughter of Starno, whom her father killed, on
account of her discovering to Fingal a plot laid against his life. Her
story is related at large in the third book of Fingal.

f Duth-manino is a name very famous in tradition. Many of his
great actions are handed down, but the poems, which contained the
detail of them, are long since lost. He lived, it is supposed, in that part
of the north of Scotland, which is over against Orkney. Duth-maruno,
Crommaglas, Struthmor, and Cormar, are mentioned, as attending
Comhal in his last battle against the tribe of Morni, in a poem which is
still preserved. It is not the work of Ossian ; the phraseology betrays
it to be a modern composition. It is something like those trivial com-
positions, which the Irish bards forged, under the name of Ossian, in
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries.

Duth-maruno signifies black and steady ; Crommaglas, fu-nding and
swarthf/ ; Struthmor, roaring shncm ; Cormar, expert at »*-a.

DUAN FIKST.

IS bis heroes to atteud hiir

on dark-rolling clouds ! Arise around me, children
of heroes, in a land imlmown ! Let each look on
his shield, like Trenmor, the ruler of Avars. Come
down, thus Trenmor said, thou dweller between
the harps ! Thou slialt roll this stream away, or
waste mth me in eai-th."

Around the king they rise in wTath. No words
come forth : they seize their spears. Each soul is
rolled into itself. At length the sudden clang is
waked, on all their echoing shields. Each takes
liis hill, by night ; at intervals, they darkly stand.
Unequal bursts the hum of songs, between the
roaring wind !

Broad over them rose the moon !

In his arms, came tall Duth-maruno ; he from
Croma of rocks, stern hunter of the boai* ! In his
dark boat he rose on waves, when Crumthormo*
awaked its woods. In the chace he shone, among
foes : No fear Avas thine, Duth-maruno ! " Son of
daiing Comhal, shall my steps be forward tlu-ough
night ? From this shield shall I view them, over
their gleaming tribes ? Stanio, king of lakes, is
before me, and Swaian, the foe of strangers. Their
words are not in vain, by Loda's stone of power. —
Should Duth-maruno not return, his spouse is
lonely, at home, Avhere meet two roaring streams,
on Crathmo-craulo's plain. Around are hills with

« Crumthormoth, one of the Orkney or Shetland islands. The name
is not of Gaelic original. It was subject to its own petty king, who is.
mentioned in one of Ossian's poems.
A 2

CATH-LODA,

of the traditional tales of the Highlanders.

echoing: woods ; the ocean is rolling near. My son
looks on screaming sea-fowl, a young Avanderer on
the field. Give the head of a hoar to Can-dona,*

* Coan-daona, head of the people, the son of Duth-maruno. He be-
came afterwards famous in the expeditions of Ossian, after the death of
Fingal. The traditional tales concerning him are very numerous, and
from the epithet in them, bestowed on him (Candona of boars) it would
appear, that he applied himself to that kind of hunting which his father,
in this paragraph, is so anxious to recommend to him. As I have
mentioned the traditional tales of the Highlands, it may not be improper
here to give some account of them. After the expulsion of the bards
from the houses of the chiefs, they, being an indolent race of men, owed
all their subsistence to the generosity of the vulgar, whom they diverted
with repeating the compositions of their predecessors, and running up
the genealogies of tlieir entertainers to the family of their chiefs. As
this subject was, however, soon exhausted, they were obliged to have
recourse to invention, and form stories having no foundation in fact,
which were swallowed, with great credulity, by an ignorant multitude.
By frequent repeating, the fable grew upon their hands, and, as each
threw in whatever circumstance he thought conducive to raise the
admiration of his hearers, the story became, at last, so devoid of all
probability, that even the vulgar themselves did not believe it. They,
however, liked the tales so well, that the bards found their advantage
in turning professed tale-makers. They then launched out into the
wildest regions of fiction and romance. I firmly believe there are more
stories of giants, inchanted castles, dwarfs, and palfreys, in the High-
lands, than in any country in Europe. These tales, it is certain, like
other romantic compositions, have many things in them unnatural, and
consequently, disgustful to true taste ; but I know not how it happens,
they command attention more than any other fictions I ever met with.
The extreme length of these pieces is very surprising, some of them re-
quiring many days to repeat them ; but such hold do they take of the
memory, that few circumstances are ever omitted by those who have
received them only from oral tradition ; what is still more amazing, the
very language of the bards is still preserved. It is curious to see, that
the descriptions of magnificence, introduced in these tales, is even su-
perior to all (he pompous oriental fictions of the kind.

DUAN FIR8T.

Fingal discovers the daughter of Torcul-t(

tell him of liis father's joy, when the bristly strength
of I-thorao rolled on Ids lifted spear. Tell him of
my deeds in war ! Tell where his father fell I"

" Not forgetfid of my fathers," said Fingal, " I
have hounded over the seas. Theirs were the
times of danger, in tlie days of old. Nor settles
darkness on me, before foes, though youthful in
my locks. Chief of Crathmo-craulo, the field of
niglit is mine."

Fingal rushed, in all liis arms, wide-bounding over
Turthor's stream, that sent its sullen roar, by night,
tin-ough Gormal's misty vale. A moon-beam glit-
tered on a rock ; in the midst stood a stately form ;
a form with floating locks, like Lochlin's white-
bosomed maids. Unequal are her steps, and short.
She throws a broken song on wind. At times she
tosses her \a hite arms ; for grief is dwelling in her
soul.

" Torcui-torao, * of aged locks!" she said,
" where now are thy steps, by Lulan? Thou
hast failed, at thine own dark streams, father of

* Torcul-torno, according to tradition, was king of Cratlilun, a district
in Sweden. The river Lulan ran near the residence of Torcul-torno.
There is a river in Sweden, still called Lula, which is probably the same
with Lulan. The war between Starno and Torcul-torno, which termi-
nated in the death of the latter, had its rise at a hunting-party. Starno
being invited, in a friendly manner, by Torcul-torno, both kings, with
their followers, went to the mountains of Stivamore to hunt. A boar
rushed from the wood before the kings, and Torcul-torno killed it.
Starno thought this behaviour a breach upon the privilege of guests,
who were always honoured, as tradition expresses it, with the danger of
fhe chase, A quarrel arose, the kings came to battle with all thoir at-

CATH-LODA,

The Story of Conban-carglas, daughter ofTorcul-t<

Conban-carglas ! But I l)ehold thee, chief of Lulaii,
sporting- by Loda's hall, when the dark-skirted night
is rolled along the sky. — Thou sometimes hidest
the moon Avith thy shield. I have seen her dim in
heaven. Thou kindlest thy hair into meteors, and
sailest along the night. Why am I forgot, in my
cave, king of shaggy boars ? Look, from the hall
of Loda, on thy lonely daughter."

" Who art thou," said Fingal, " voice of night ?"

She, trembling, turned away.

" Who art thou in thy darkness ?"

She shrunk into the cave.

The king loosed the thong from her hands. — He
asked about her fathers.

" Torcul-tomo," she said, " once dwelt at Lulan's
foamy stream : he dwelt — but, now, in Loda's hall,
he shakes the sounding shell. He met Starno of
Lochlin, in war ; long fought the dark-eyed kings.
My father fell, in his blood, blue-shielded Torcul-
torno ! By a rock, at Lulan's stream, I had pierced
the bounding roe. My A\'hite hand gathered my
liair from off the rushing winds. I heard a noise.

tendants, and the party of Torcul-torno were totally defeated, and he
himself slain. Starno pursued his victory, laid waste the district of
Crathlun, and, coming to the residence of Torcul-torno, carried off, by
force, Conban.carglas, the beautiful daughter of his enemy. Her he
confined in a cave, near the palace of Gonnal, where, on account of her
cruel treatment, she became distracted.

The paragraph just now before us is the song of Conban-carglas, at the
time she was discovered by Fingal. It is in Lyric measure, and set to
jnusic, which is wild and simple, and so inimitably suitetlto the situa-
tion of the unhappy lady, that few can hear it without tears.

DUAN FIRST.

Fingal encourages the unfortunate Conbaa-carglas.

Mine eyes were up. My soft breast rose on high.
My step was fom^ard, at Lulan, to meet thee, Tor-
cul-tomo ! It was Stanio, dreadful king ! His
red eyes rolled on me in love. Dark Avaved his
shaggy brow above his gathered smile. Where is
my father, I said, he that was mighty in war ?
Thou art left alone among foes, O daughter of
Torcul-tomo ! He took my hand. He raised the
sail. In this cave he placed me dark. At times,
he comes, a gathered mist. He lifts before me my
father's shield. But often passes a beam * of
youth, far distant from my cave. The son of
Stamo moves in my sight. He dwells lonely in
my soul."

" Maid of Lulan," said Fingal, " white-handed
daughter of grief! a cloud, marked with streaks of
fire, is rolled along thy soul. Look not to that
dark-robed moon : Look not to those meteors of
heaven. My gleaming steel is around thee, the
terror of thy foes ! It is not the steel of the feeble,
nor of the dark in soul ! The maids are not shut
in our t caves of streams. They toss not their
white arms alone. Thev bend, fair Avithin their

* By the beam of youth, it afterwards appears that Conban-carglas
means Swaran,the son of Stamo, with whom, during her confinement,
she had fallen in love.

t From this contrast which Fingal draws between his own nation eind
the inhabitants of Scandinavia, we may learn that the former were
much less barbarous than the latter. This distinction is so much ob-
served throughout the poems of Ossian, that there can be no doubt
that he followed the real manners of both nations in his own time. A t
the close of the speech of Fingal, there is a great part of the original
lost.

10 CATH-LODA,

Fingal, during the night, encounters and conquers Swaran in tingle combat.

locks, above the haq)s of Selma. Their voice is
not in the desart wild. We melt along the pleasing
sound !"

Fingal again advanced his steps, wide through
the bosom of night, to where the trees of Loda
shook amid squally winds. Three stones, with
heads of moss, are there ; a stream, with foaming
course : and dreadful, rolled around them, is the
dark red cloud of Loda. High fiom its top looked
forward a ghost, half-formed of the shadowy smoke.
He poured his voice, at times, amidst the roaring
stream. Near, bending beneath a blasted tree, two
heroes received his words : Swaran of lakes, and
Starno foe of strangers. On their dun shields they
darkly leaned : their spears are fonvard through
night. Slu-ill sounds the blast of darkness, in
Stamo's floating beard.

They heard the tread of Fingal. The warriors
rose in arms. " Swaran, lay that wanderer low,"
said Starno in his pride, " Take the shield of thy
father. It is a rock in war." — Swaran threw his
gleaming speai". It stood fixed in Loda's tree.
Then came the foes forward, with swords. They
mixed their rattling steel. Through the thongs of
Swaran's shield rushed the blade * of Luno. The
shield fell rolling on earth. Cleft the helmet t fell

* The sword of Fingal, so called from its maker, Luno of Loehlin.

t The helmet of Swaran. The behaviour of Fingal is always con-
sistent with that generosity of spirit which belongs to a hero. He take*
no advantage of a foe disarmed.

DUAN FIRST. H

Conban-carglas, on leeing the cleft helmet of Swaran, faints and expires.

down. Fingal stopped the lifted steel. Wrathful
stood Swaran, unarmed. He rolled his silent eyes ;
he threw his sword on earth. Then, slowly stalk-
ing over the stream, he whistled as he went.

Not unseen of his father is Swaran. Stamo
turns away in wrath. His shaj2:gy brows wave
dark, above his gathered rage. He strikes Loda's
tree with his spear. He raises the hum of songs.
They come to the host of Lochlin, each in his own
dark path; like two foam-covered streams, from
two rainy vales !

To Turthor's plain Fingal retm-ned. Fair rose
the beam of the east. It shone on the spoils of
LochUn in the hand of the king. From her cave
came forth, in her beauty, the daughter of Torcul-
torno. She gathered her hair from wind. She
wildly raised her song. The song of Lulan of
shells, where once her father dwelt. She saw
Starno's bloody shield. Gladness rose, a light, on
her face. She saw the cleft helmet of Swaran.*
She shrunk, darkened from Fingal. — " Art thou
fallen, by thy hundred streams, O love of the
mournful maid?"

U-thorno, that risest in waters ! on whose side

* Conban-carglas, from seeing the helmet of Swaran bloody in the
hands of Fingal, conjectured that that hero was killed. A part of the
original is lost. It appears, however, from the sequel of the poem, that
the daughter of Torcul-torno did not long survive her surprise occa-
sioned by the supposed death of her lover. The description of the
airy hall of Loda (which is supposed to be the same with that of Odin,
the deity of Scandinavia) i3 more picturesque and descriptive than any
in the Edda, or other works of the northern Scaklers.

12 CATH-LODA.

De^icription of the hall of Loda, the Scandinavian deity.

are the meteors of night ! I behold the dark moon
descending, behind thy resounding woods. On
thy top dwells the misty Loda, the house of the
spirits of men ! In the end of his cloudy hall,
bends forward Cruth-loda of swords. His form
is dimly seen, amid his wavy mist. His right hand
is on his shield. In his left is the half-viewless
shell. The roof of his dreadful hall is marked with
nightly fires !

The race of Cruth-loda advance, a ridge of form-
less shades. He reaches the sounding shell, to
those who shone in war. But, between him and
the feeble, his shield rises, a darkened orb. He is
a setting meteor to the weak in arms. Bright, as
a rainbow on streams, came Lulan's white-bosomed
maid.

CATH-LODA,

DUAN SECOND.

ARGUMENT.

Fingalf returning with day^ devolves the command on Duth-
maruno^ who engages the enemy ^ and drives them over the
stream of Turthor. Having recalled his people^ he con-
gratulates Duth-maruno on his success, but discovers that
that hero had been mortally wounded in the action. Duth-
maruno dies. UlUn, the bard, in honour of the dead,
introduces the episode of Colgorm and Strina-dona, which
concludes this duan.

CATH-LODA.

DUAN SECOND.

" Where art thou, son of the king ?" said dark-
haired Duth-maruno. " Where hast thou failed,
young beam of Selma ? He returns not, from the
bosom of night ? Morning is spread on U-thomo,
In his mist is the sun, on his hill. Warriors, lift
the shields, in my presence. He must not fall,
like a fire fi'om heaven, whose place is not marked
on the ground. He comes ! Uke an eagle, from the
skirt of his squally wind ! In his hand are the
spoils of foes. King of Selma, om' souls were sad !"

" Near us are the foes, Duth-maruno. They
come forward, like waves in mist, when their foamy
tops are seen, at times, above the low-sailing va-
pour. The traveller shrinks on his journey ; he
knows not whither to fly. No trembling travellers
are we ! Sons of heroes call forth the steel. Shall
the sword of Fingal arise, or shall a wan-ior lead ?"
* " The deeds of old," said Duth-maruno, " are

* In this short episode we have a very probable account given us of
the origin of monarchy in Caledonia. The Cael, or Gauls, who pos-
sessed the countries to the north of the Frith of Edinburgh, were ori-
ginally a number of distinct tribes or clans, each subject to its own chief.

16 CATH-LODA,

Account of Trenmor, the heroic

like paths to our eyes, O Fingal ! Broad-shielded
Trenmor is still seen, amidst his own dim years.
Nor feeble was the soul of the king. There, no
dark deed wandered in secret. From their hundred
streams came the tribes to giassy Colglancrona.
Their chiefs were before them. Each strove to
lead the war. Their swords were often half-
unsheathed. Red rolled their eyes of rage. Sepa-
rate they stood, and hummed their surly songs.
' Why should they yield to each other ? their
fathers were equal in war.' Trenmor was there
with his people, stately in youthful locks. He
saw the advancing foe. The gi'ief of his soul arose.
He bade the chiefs to lead by turns : they led, but
they were rolled away. From his own mossy hill,
blue-shielded Trenmor came down. He led wide-

who was free and independent of any other power. When the Romans
invaded them, the common danger might, perhaps, have induced those
reguli to join together ; but as they were unwilling to yield the command
to one of their own number, their battles were ill-conducted, and con-
sequently unsuccessful. Trenmor was the first who represented to the
chiefs the bad consequences of carrying on their wars in this irregular
manner, and advised that they themselves should alternately lead in
battle. They did so, but they were unsuccessful. When it came to.
Trenmor's turn, he totally defeated the enemy by his superior valour
and conduct, which gained him such an interest among the tribes, that
he, and his family after him, were regarded as kings; or, to use the
poet's expression, the words of power rushed forth from Selma of kings.
The regal authority, however, except in time of war, was but inconsi-
derable , for every chief, within his own district, was absolute and
independent. From the scene of tlie battle, in this episode, (which was
in the valley of Crona, a little to the north of Agricola's wall,) I should
suppose that the enemies of the Caledonians were the Romans or pro-
vincial Britons.

DUAN SECOND.

TrenmoT,for his bravery, chosen king of the Caledonians.

skirted battle, and the strangers failed. Around
him the dark-browed waniors came ; they struck
the shield of joy. Like a pleasant gale, the words
of power rushed forth fi-om Selma of kings. But
the chiefs led, by turns, in Avar, till mighty danger
rose : then was the hour of the king to conquer in
the field."

" Not unknown," said Crommaglas * of shields,
" are the deeds of our fathers. But who shall now
lead the war, before the race of kings? Mist
settles on these four dai'k hills : within it let each
warrior strike his shield. Spii'its may descend in
darkness, and mark us for the Avar."

* In tradition, this Crommaglas makes a great figure in that battle
which Comhal lost, together with his life, to the tribe of Morni. I have
just now in my hands an Irish composition, of a very modem date, as
appears from the language, in which all the traditions concerning that
decisive engagement are jumbled together. In justice to the merit of
the poem, I should have here presented to the reader a translation of it,
did not the bard mention some circumstances very ridiculous, and
others altogether indecent. Morna, the wife of Comhal, had a principal
hand in all the transactions previous to the defeat and death of her
husband ; she, to use the words of the bard, who was the guiding-star of
the women of Erin. The bard, it is to be hoped, misrepresented the
ladies of his country ; for Morna's behaviour was, according to him, so
void of all decency and virtue, that it cannot be supposed they had
chosen her for their guiding-star. The poem consists of many stanzas.
The language is figurative, and the numbers harmonious ; but the
piece is so full of anachronisms, and so unequal in its composition, that
the author, most undoubtedly, was either mad or drunk when he wrote
it. It is worthy of being remarked, that Comhal is, in this poem, very
often called Comhal na h' A/bin, or Comhal of Albion, which sufficiently
demonstrates that the allegations of Keating and O'Flahcrty, concern-
ing Fion Mac Comnal, are but of late invention,
B 2

18 CATH-LODA,

lO defeats the army of Stamo and Swaran,

They went, each to his hill of mist. Bards
marked the sounds of the shields. Loudest rung
thy boss, Duth-mai-uno. Thou must lead in war !
Like the murmui' of waters, the race of Uthomo
came down. Starno led the battle, and Swaran
of stormy isles. They looked forward from iron
shields, like Cruth-loda fiery-eyed, when he looks
from behind the darkened moon, and strews his
signs on night. The foes met by Turthor's stream.
They heaved like ridgy waves. Theii- echoing
strokes are mixed. Shadowy death flies over the
hosts. They wer«^ clouds of hail, with squally
winds in their skirts. Their (showers are roaring
together. Below them swells the dark-rolling deep.

Strife of gloomy U-thorao, why should I mark
thy wounds ! Thou art with the years that are
gone ; thou fadest on my soul !

Starno brought foi'^^^ard his skirt of war, and
Swaran his own dark wing. Nor a harmless fire
is Duth-maruno's sword. Lochlin is rolled over
her streams. The wratliful kings are lost in
thought. They roll their silent eyes, over the
flight of their land. The horn of Fiiigal ^vas heard ;
the sons of woody Albion returned. But many
lay, by Tiuthor s stream, silent in their blood.

" Chief of Crathmo," said the king, " Duth-
maruno, hunter of boars ! not harmless returns my
eagle from the field of foes ! For this, white-
bosomed Lanul shall brighten at lier streams ;
Candona sliall rejoice, as he wanders in Cratlnno'f*
fields."

DU AN SECOND. 19

Death of Duth-maruno ; who was mortall; wounded In the battle.

" Colgorm,"* replied the chief, " was the first of
my race in Albion ; Colgorm, the rider of ocean,
through its watery vales. He slew his brother in
I-thorno : t He left the land of his fathers. He
chose his place, in silence, by rocky Crathmo-
craulo. His race came forth in theii' years ; they
came forth to war, but they always fell. The
wound of my fathers is mine, king of echoing isles !"

He chew an an*ow from his side ! He fell pale,
in a land unknown. His soul came forth to his
fathers, to their stormy isle. There they pursued
boars of mist, along the skirts of wind. The
chiefs stood silent around, as the stones of Loda
on their hill. The traveller sees them, through
the twilight, from his lonely path. He thinks
them the ghosts of the aged, forming future wars.

Night came down on U-thomo. Still stood
the chiefs in their grief. The blast whistled, by
turns, through every wamor's hair. Fingal, at
length, broke forth from the thoughts of his soul.

•The famUy of Duth-maruno, it appears, came originally from Scandi-
navia, or at least from some of the northern isles, subject, in chief, to the
Kings of Lochlin. The Highland senachies, who never missed to make
their comments on, and additions to, the works of Ossian, have given us
a long list of the ancestors of Duth-maruno, and a particular account
of their actions, many of vvliich are of the marvellous kind. One of the
tale-makers of the north has chosen for his hero, Starnmor, the father
of Duth-manmo, and, considering the adventures through which he
lias led him, the piece is neither disagreeable, nor abounding with that
kind of fiction which shocks credibility.
t An island of Scandinavia.

20 CATH-LODA,

ITIIin the bard raises the song in honour of Duth-maruno.

He called Ullin of harps, and bade the song to
rise. " No falling fire, that is only seen, and then
retires in night ; no departing meteor was he that
is laid so low. He was like the strong-beaming
sun, long rejoicing on his hill. Call the names of
his fathers from their dwellings old !"

I-thomo,* said the bard, that risest midst ridgy
seas ! why is thy head so gloomy, in the ocean's
mist ? From thy vales came forth a race, fearless
as thy strong- winged eagles ; the race of Colgorm
of iron shields, dwellers of Loda's hall.

In Tormoth's resounding isle aiose Lurthan,
streamy hill. It bent its woody head over a silent
vale. There, at foamy Cruruth's source, dwelt
Rurmar, hunter of boars ! His daughter Avas fair
as a sun-beam, white-bosomed Strina-dona !

Many a king of heroes, and hero of iron shields ;
many a youth of heavy locks came to Rurmar's
echoing hall. They came to woo the maid, the

* This episode is, in the original, extremely beautiful. It is set to
that wild kind of music which some of the Highlanders distinguish by
the title of Fon Oi viarra, or the Sotig of Mermaids. Some part of the
air is absolutely infernal, but there are many returns in the measure
which are inexpressibly wild and beautiful. From the genius of the
music, I should think it came originally from Scandinavia; for the
fictions delivered down concerning the Oi-marra, (who are reputed the
authorsof the music,) exactly correspond with the notions of the nor-
thern nations concerning their dir^ or goddesses of death— Of a\\ the
names in this episode, there is noneof a gaelic original, except Strina-
dona, which signifies the strife of heroes.

DUAN SECOND. 21

Continuation of the song of Ullin.

stately huntress of Tormotli ^\dld. But thou look-
est careless from thy steps, high-bosomed Strina-
dona!

If ou the heath she moved, her breast was whiter
than the doivn of Cana ;* if on the sea-beat shore,
than the foam of the rolling ocean. Her eyes were
two stai's of light. Her face was heaven's bow in
showers. Her dark hair flowed round it, like the
streaming clouds. Thou wert the dweller of souls,
white-handed Strina-dona !

Colgorm came, in his ship, and Corcul-Suran,
king of shells. The brothers came, from I-thomo,
to woo the sun-beam of Tormotli ^41d. She saw
them in their echoing steel. Her soul was fixed
on blue-eyed Colgorm. t Ul-lochlin's nightly eye
looked in, and saw the tossing arms of Strina-dona !

Wrathful the brothers frowned. Their flaming
eyes, in silence, met. They tm-ned away. They
struck theu' shields. Their hands were trembling
on their swords. They rushed into the strife of
heroes, for long-hafred Strina-dona !

Corcul-Suran fell in blood. On his isle, raged
the strength of his father. He turned Colgorm
from I-thomo, to wander on all the winds. In

* The Cana is a certain kind of grass, which grows plentifully in the
heathy morassess of the north. Its stalk is of the reedy kind, and it
carries a tuft of down very much resembling cotton. It is excessively
white, and consequently often introduced by the bards in their dmiles
concerning the beauty of women.

t Ul-lochlin, the guide to Lochlin ; the name of a star.

22 CATH-LODA.

Conclusion of the song of Ullin

Crathmo-craulo's rocky field he dwelt by a foreign
stream. Nor darkened the king alone ; that beam
of light was near, the daughter of echoing Tormoth,
white-armed Strina-dona.*

• The continuation of this episode is just now in my hands ; but the
language is so different from, and the ideas so unworthy of, Ossian,
that I have rejected it, as an interpolation by a modem bard.

CATH-LODA.

DUAN THIRD.

ARGUMENT.

Ossian, after some general reflections^ describes the situation
of Fingal, and the position of the army of Lochlin. The
conversation of Starno and Swaran. The episode of Cor -
man-trunar and Foina-bragal. Starno^ from his own ex-
ample^ recommends to Swaran to surprise Fingal^ who
had retired alone to a neighbouring hill. Upon Swaraii's
refusal^ Starno undertakes the enterprise himself is over-
come, and taken prisoner, hy Fingal. He is dismissed^
after a severe reprimand for his cruelty.

CATH-LODA.

DUAN THIRD.

Whence is the stream of years? Whither do
they roll along ? Where have they hid in mist, their
many-coloured sides ?

I look into the times of old, but they seem dim
to Ossian's eyes, like reflected moon-beams on a
distant lake. Here rise the red beams of war!
There, silent, dwells a feeble race ! They mark no
years with their deeds, as slow they pass along.
Dweller between the shields ! Thou that awakest
the failing soul ! Descend fi-om thy wall, hai*|) of
Cona, with thy voices three ! Come with that which
kindles the past ; rear the forms of old on their o^ti
dark-bro\\Ti years !

* Uthomo, hill of stonns, I behold mv race on

• The bards, who were always ready to supply what they thought
deficient in the poems of Ossian, have inserted a great many incidents
between the second and third duan of Cath-loda. Their interpolations
are so easily distinguished from the genuine remains of Ossian, that it
took me very little time to mark them out, and totally to reject them.
If the modem Scottish and Irish bards have shown any judgment, it is
in ascribing their own composition to names of antiquity, for by that
means they themselves have escaped that contempt which the authors
of such futile performances must necessarily have met with from people
of true taste. I was led into this obsers ation by an Irish poem just now
VOL. I. C

26 CATH-LODA,

n after the last battle.

thy side. Fingal is bending, in night, over Duth-
maruno's tomb. Near him are the steps of his he-
roes, hunters of the hoar. By Turthor's stream the
host of LocMin is deep in shades. The wrathful
kings stood on two hills ; they looked forward from
their bossy shields. They looked foi-^\ ard to the
stars of night, red wandering in the Avest. Cnith-
loda bends from high, like a formless meteor in
clouds. He sends abroad the winds, and marks
them, with his sighs. Starno foresaw that Mor-
ven's king was not to yield in war.

He tAvice struck the tree in wrath. He rushed
before his son. He hummed a surly song ; and
heard his hair in wind. Turned * fiom one another,

before me. It concerns a descent made by Swaran, king of Lochlin, on
Ireland, and is the work, says the traditional preface prefixed to it, of
Ossian Mac Fion. It however appears, from several pious ejaculations,
that it was rather the composition of some good priest, in the fifteenth
or sixteenth century ; for he speaks, with great devotion, of pilgrimage,
and more particularly of the blue-eyed daughters of the convent. Religi-
ous, however, as this poet was, he was not altogether decent in the scenes
he introduces between Swaran and the wife of Co«^f !////ow, both of whom
he represents as giants. It happening unfortunately, that CongcuUion
was only of a modern stature, his wife, without hesitation, preferred
Swaran, as a more adequate match for her own gigantic size. From this
fatal preference proceeded so mucli mischief, that the good poet alto-
gether lost sight of his principal action, and he ends the piece with ad-
vice to men in the choice of their wives ; which, however good it may
be, I shall leave concealed in the obscurity of the original.

• The surly attitude of Starno and Swaran is well adapted to their
fierce and uncomplying dispositions. Their characters, at first sight,
seem little different ; but upon examination, we find that the poet has
dexterously distinguished between them. They were both dark, stub-
born, haughty, and reserved ; but Starno was cunning, revengeful, and

DUAN THIRD. 27

the treacherous deeds of his youth.

they stood like two oaks, which different winds had
bent ; each hangs over its own loud rill, and shakes
its boughs in the course of blasts.

" Annir," said Stamo of lakes, " was a fire that
consumed of old. He poured death from his eyes,
along the striving fields. His joy was in the fall of
men. Blood to him was a summer stream, that
brings joy to withered vales, fi*om its own mossy
rock. He came forth to the lake Luth-cormo, to
meet the tall Corman-trunar, he from Urlor of
streams, dweller of battle's wing.

" The chief of Urlor had come to Gormal, with
his dark-bosomed ships. He saw the daughter of
Annir, white-armed Foina-bragal. He saw her!
Nor careless rolled her eyes on the rider of stormy
waves. She fled to his ship in darkness, like a
moon-beam through a nightly vale. Annir pursued
along the deep ; he called the winds of heaven. Nor
alone was the king ! Starno was by his side. Like
U-thomo's young eagle, I turned my eyes on my
father.

" We rushed into roaring Urlor. With his peo-
ple came tall Corman-trunai*. We fought ; but the
foe prevailed. In his wrath my father stood. He
lopped the young trees with his sword. His eyes
rolled red in his rage. I marked the soul of the
king, and I retired in night. From the field I took

cruel, to the highest degree; the disposition of Swaran, though savage,
was less bloody, and somewhat tinctured with generosity. It is doijig
in j ustice to Ossian, to say that he has not a great variety of characters.

28 CATH-LODA,

It of his former deeds continued.

a broken helmet: a shield that was pierced with
steel ; pointless was the spear in my hand. I went
to find the foe.

" On a rock sat tall Corman-trunar, beside his
burning oak ; and near him, beneath a tree, sat deep-
bosomed Foina-bragal. I threw ray broken shield
before her. I spoke the words of peace. ' Beside
his rolling sea, lies Annir of many lakes. The king
was pierced in battle ; and Stamo is to raise his
tomb. Me, a son of Loda, he sends to white-handed
Foina, to bid her send a lock from her hair, to rest
with her father in earth. And thou, king of roar-
ing Urlor, let the battle cease, till Annir receive the
shell from fiery-eyed Ci*uthloda.'

* " Bursting into tears, she rose, and tore a lock
from her hair ; a lock which wandered in the blast,
along her heaving breast. Corman-trunar gave the
shell ; and bade me to rejoice before him. I rested
in the shade of night, and hid my face in my helmet
deep. Sleep descended on the foe. I rose like a
stalking ghost. I pierced the side of Corman-trunar.
Nor did Foina-bragal escape. She rolled her Avhite
bosom in blood.

" Wliy then, daughter of heroes, didst thou wake
my rage ?

* Ossian is very partial to the fair sex. Even the daughter of the cruel
Annir, the sister of the revengeful and bloody Stamo, partakes not of
those disagreeable characters so peculiar to her family. She is altogether
tender and delicate. Homer, of all ancient poets, uses the sex with
least ceremony. His cold contempt is even worse than the downright
abuse of the moderns ; for to draw abuse implies the posse«sion of some
merit.

DUAN THIRD. 29

Stamo proposes to Swaran, his son, to kill Fingal during the night.

" Morning rose. The foe were fled, like the
departure of mist. Annir struck his bossy shield.
He called his dark-haired son. I came, streaked
with Avandering blood : thrice rose the shout of the
king, like the bursting forth of a squall of wind from
a cloud, by night. We rejoiced three days above
the dead, and called the hawks of heaven. They
came from all their winds, to feast on Annir's foes.
Swaran ! Fingal is alone,* on his hill of night. Let
thy spear pierce the king in secret ; like Annir my
soul shall rejoice."

" Son of Annir," said Swaran, " I shall not slay
in shades. I move forth in light ; the hawks rush
from all their winds. They are wont to trace my
course ; it is not harmless through war."

Burning rose the rage of the king. He thrice
raised his gleaming spear. But, starting, he spared
his son, and rushed into the night. By Turthor's
stream a cave is dark, the dwelling of Conban-carglas.
There he laid the helmet of kings, and called the
maid of Lulan : but she was distant far, in Loda's
resounding hall.

Swelling in his rage, he strode to where Fingal
lay alone. The king was laid on his shield, on his
own secret hill.

Stem hunter of shaggy boars ! no feeble maid is

• Fingal, according to the customs of the Caledonian kings, had retir-
ed to a hill alone, as he himself was to resume the command of the army
the next day. Stamo might have some intelligence of the king's retir-
ing, which occasions his request to Swaran to stab him, as he foresaw,
by his art of divination, that he could not overcome him in open battle.

30 CATH-LODA.

Fingal overcomes and binds Stamo, but generously dismisses turn.

laid before thee. No boy, on his ferny bed, by
Turthor's murmuring stream ! Here is spread the
coucli of the mighty, from which they rise to deeds
of death ! Hunter of shaggy boars, awaken not the
terrible !

Starno came murmuring on : Fingal arose in arms.
" Who art thou, son of night ?" Silent he threw the
spear. They mixed their gloomy strife. The shield
of Starno fell, cleft in twain. He is bound to an
oak. The early beam arose. It was then Fingal
beheld the king. He rolled awhile his silent eyes.
He thought of other days, when white-bosomed
Agandecca moved like the music of songs. He
loosed the thong from his hands. " Son of Annir,"
he said, " retire ! Retire to Gormal of shells ; a
beam that was set returns. I remember thy white-
bosomed daughter ; dreadful king, away ! Go to
thy troubled dwelling, cloudy foe of the lovely !
Let the stranger shun thee, thou gloomy in the
hall !"

A tale of the times of old !

C O M A L A:

A

IBramatCc poem

ARGUMENT.

This poem is valuable, on account of the light it throws on the
antiquity of Ossian''s compositions. The Caracul men-
tiofied here is the same with CaracaUa, the son of Severus,
•who, in the year 211, commanded an expedition against the
Caledonians. The variety of the measure shows that the
poem was originally set to music, and perhaps presented
before the chiefs on solemn occasions. Tradition has handed
down the story more complete than it is in the poem.
'' Comala, the daugfiter of Sarno, king of Inistore, or
Orkney islands, fell in love with Fingal, the son ofComhal,
at a feast, to which her father had invited him, [Fingal,
B. III.] ttpon his return from Lochlin, after the death of
Agandecca. Her passion was so violent, that she follon'cd
him, disguised like a youth, who wanted to he employed in
his wars. She was soon discovered by Hidallan the son of
Lamor, one of FingaVs heroes, whose love she had slighted
some time before. Her romantic passion and beauty re-
commended her so much to the king, that he had resolved
to make her his wife, when news was brought him of Cara-
cul's expedition. He marched to stop the progress of the
enemy, and Comala attended him. He left her on a hill,
within sight of CaracuVs army, when he himself weiit to
battle, having previously promised, if he survived, to return
that nigh t." The s equel of the story may he gathered from
the poem itself.

C O M A L A.

THE PERSONS.

f IN GAL. MELILCOMA, \ Daughten

HIDALLAN. DERSAGRENA. J ofMorni.
COMALA. BARDtf.

Dersagrena. The chace is over. No noise
on Ardven but the torrent's roar! Daughter of
Momi, come from Crona's banks. Lay down the
bow and take the hai-p. Let the night come on
with songs, let our joy be gi-eat on Ardven.

Melilcoma.* Night comes a-pace, thou blue-
eyed maid ! Gray night grows dim along the plain.
I saw a deer at Crona's stream ; a mossy bank he
seemed through the gloom ; but soon he bounded
away. A meteor played round his branching bonis.
The a^^'ful faces t of other times looked from the
clouds of Crona !

Dersagrena.J These are the signs of Fingal's
death. The king of shields is fallen, and Caracul
prevails ! Rise, Comala,|l from thy rock ; daughter

» M elilcoma , softly-rolling eye-
t Apparent dir<e fades, inimicaque Trojcc
Numina tnagna deum. — ViRGiL.

dreadful sounds I hear.

And the dire form of hostile gods appear.— Dryden.
X Dersagrena, the brightness of a sun-beam.
\ C'omala, the maid qf the jHeawnt brow.

34 COMALA.

The soliloquy of Comala during the absence of Fingal.

of Sarno, rise in tears ! The youth of thy love is
low ; his ghost is on oui' hills.

Melilcoma. There Comala sits forlorn ! two
gray dogs near shake their rough ears, and catch
the flying breeze. Her red cheek rests upon her
arm, the mountain wind is in her hair. She turns
her blue eyes towards the fields of his promise.
AVhere art thou, O Fingal, the night is gathering
around ?

Comala. O Carun * of the streams ! Why
do I behold thy waters rolling in blood ? Has the
noise of the battle been heard ; and sleeps the king
of Moi'ven ? Rise, Moon, thou daughter of the
sky ! Look from between thy clouds, rise that I
may behold the gleam of his steel, on the field of
his promise. Or rather let the meteor, that lights
our fathers through the night, come, with its red
beam, to show me tlie way to my fallen hero.
Who will defend me from soitow ? Who from the
love of Hidallan ? Long shall Comala look before
she can behold Fingal in the midst of his host ;
bright as the coming forth of the morning, in the
cloud of an early shower !

• Carun or Cara'on, a winding river. — This river retains still the
name of Carron, and falls into the Forth some miles to the north of
Falkirk.

Gentesquc alias cumpelteret armis

Sedibus, aid victas vilem servarct in usum
Servitii, hie eontcnla svos defendere fines
Roma securigeris prcetendit ma:nia Scotis :
Hie spe progressus posit a, Caronis ad undam
Terminus Ausonii signal divortia r^gw/.— Buchanan.

COMA LA. 35

Hidallan alarms Comala with false tidings of Fingai's death.

HiDALLAN. * Dwell, thou mist of gloomy
Crona, dwell on the path of the kmg ! Hide his
steps from mine eyes ; let me remember my friend
no more. The bands of battle are scattered, no
crowding tread is round the noise of his steel. O
Carun ! roll thy streams of blood, the chief of the
people is low.

Comala. Who fell on Carun's sounding banks,
son of the cloudy night ? W as he white as the snow
of Ardven ? Blooming as the bow of the shower ?

HiDALLAX. O that I might behold his love,
fair leaning from her rock ! Her red eye dim m
tears, her blushing cheek hali-hid in her locks !
Blow, O gentle breeze ! Lift thou the heavy locks
of the maid, that I may behold her white arm, her
lovely cheek in her giief.

Comala. And is the son of Comhal fallen,
chief of the mouniful tale ? The thunder rolls on
the hill ! The lightning flies on wings of fire !
They frighten not Comala ; for Fingal is low.
Say, chief of the mournful tale, fell the breaker of
the shields ?

Hid ALL AN. The nations are scattered on their
hills ! They shall hear the voice of the king no more.

Comala. Confusion pm-sue thee over thy
plains ! Ruin overtake thee, thou king of the
world ! Few be thy steps to thy grave ; and let

• Hidallan was sent by Fingal to give notice to Comala of his return ;
he, to revenge himself on her for slighting his love some time before,
told her that the king was killed iu battle. He even pretended that he
carried his body from the field to be buried in her presence ; and this
circumaUnce makes it probable that the poem was presented of eld.

36 COI^IALA.

Comala's lament over the supposed death of FIngal.

one virgin mourn thee ! Let her be like Comala,
tearful in the days of her youth ! Why hast thou
told me, Hidallan, that my hero fell ! I might
have hoped a little while his return ; I might have
thought I saw him on the distant rock ; a tree
might have deceived me with his appearance ; the
wind of the hill might have been the sound of his
horn in mine ear. O that I were on the banks of
Carun ! That my tears might be warm on his
cheek !

HiDALLAN. He lies not on the banks of Ca-
run ; on Ardven, heroes raise Ids tomb. Look on
them, O moon ! fiom thy clouds ; be thy beam
bright on his breast, that Comala may behold him
in the light of his armour !

Comala. Stop, ye sons of the grave, till I
behold my love ! He left me at the chace alone.
I knew not that he went to war. He said he
would return with the night ; the king of Morven
is returned ! Why didst thou not tell me that he
would fall, O trembling dweller of the rock ! *
Thou sawest him in the blood of his youth ; but
thou didst not tell Comala !

Melilcoma. Wliat sound is that on Ardven?
Who is that bright in the vale ? Who comes like
the strength of rivers, when their crowded waters
glitter to the moon ?

• By the dweller of the rock she means a Druid. It is probable that
some of the order of the Druids remained as late as the beginning of
the reign of Fingal ; and that Comala had consulted one of them con-
cerning the event of the war with Caracul.

COM ALA 37

Fingal, returning, is mistaken for a ghost by Comala.

Coma LA. Who is it but the foe of Comala,
the son of the king of the world ! Ghost of Fingal !
do thou, from thy cloud, direct Comala's bow.
Let him fall like the hart of the desart. It is
Fingal in the crowd of his ghosts. Why dost thou
come, my love, to frighten and please my soul ?

Fingal. Raise, ye bards, the song ; raise tlie
wars of the streamy Carun ! Caracul has fled from
our arms along the fields of his piide. He sets far
distant, like a meteor that incloses a spirit of night,
when the winds drive it over the heath, and the
dark woods are gleaming around. I heard a voice !
or was it the breeze of ray hills? Is it the huntress
of Ardven, the white-handed daughter of Samo ?
Look from thy rocks, my love ; let me hear the
voice of Comala !

Comala. Take me to the cave of thy rest, O
lovely son of death !

Fingal. Come to the cave of my rest. The
storm is past, the sun is on our fields. Come to
the cave of my rest, huntress of echoing Ardven !

Comala. He is returned with his fame ! I
feel the right hand of his wars ! But I must rest
beside the rock till my soul returns from my fear.
O let the haip be near ! raise the song, ye daughters
of Momi !

Dersagrena. Comala has slain three deers
on Ardven ; the fire ascends on the rock ; go to the
feast of Comala, king of the Avoody Morven !

Fingal. Raise, ye sons of song, the wars of

vol. i. d

38 COIMALA.

e the song in honour of Comala.

the streamy Carun ; that my white-handed maid
may rejoice : while I behold the feast of my love.

Bards. Roll, streamy Caiim ; roll in joy, the
sons of battle fled ! The steed is not seen on om*
fields ; the wings * of their pride spread in other
lands. The sun will now rise in peace, and the
shadows descend in joy. The voice of the chase
will be heard ; the shields hang in the hall. Our
delight will be in the war of the ocean, our hands
shall grow red in the blood of Loclilin. Roll,
streamy Carun, roll in joy, the sons of battle fled !

Melilcoma. Descend, ye light mists, fi'om
high ! Ye moon-beams, lift her soul ! Pale lies
the maid at the rock ! Comala is no more !

FiNGAL. Is the daughter of Samo dead ; the
white-bosomed maid of my love ! Meet me,
Comala, on my heaths, when I sit alone at the
streams of my hills !

HiDALLAN. Ceased the voice of the huntress
of Ardven? Why did I trouble the soul of the
maid ? When shall I see thee, with joy, in the
chase of the dark-browni hinds ?

FiNGAL. Youth of the gloomy brow ! no more
shalt thou feast in my lialls. Thou shalt not pursue
my chase, my foes shall not fall by thy sword.f
Lead me to the place of her rest, that I may behold
lier beauty. Pale she lies at the rock, the cold

* Perliaps the poet alludes to the Iloman eagle.

t The sequel of the story of Hidallan is introduced in another poem.

Song of the bards concluded.

winds lift her hair ! Her bow-string sounds in
the blast, her anow was broken in her fall, liaise
the praise of the daughter of Samo ! give her name
to the winds of heaven !

Bards. See! meteors gleam around the maid!
See ! moon-beams lift her soul ! Around her, from
their clouds, bend the awful faces of her fathers ;
SaiTio, * of the gloomy brow ! the red-rolling eyes
of Fidallan ! When shall thy white hand arise ?
When shall thy voice be heard on our rocks? The
maids shall seek thee on the heath, but they shall
not find thee. Thou shalt come, at times, to their
dreams, to settle peace in their soul. Thy voice
shall remain in their ears, they shall think with joy
on the cheams of then* rest. Meteors gleam around
the maid, and moon-beams lift her soul !

* Sarao, 'the father of Comala, died soon after the flight of his
daughter. Fidallan was the first king that reigned in Inistore.

CARICTHURA:

d2

ARGUMENT.

Fingril^ returning from an expedition "which he had made
into the Roman province^ resolved to visit CathuUa, king
oflnistore, and brother to Comala, whose story is related
at large in the preceding dramatic poem. Upon his coming
in sight of Caricthura, the palace of Cathulla^ he obser-
ved aflayne on its top^ which^ in those days, was a signal
of distress. The wind drove him into a bay, at some dis-
tance from Caric-thura, and he was obliged to pass the
night on the shore. Next day he attacked the army of
Frothal^king of Sora, who had besieged Cathnlla in his
palace of Caric-thura, and took Frothal himself prisoner,
after he had engaged him in a single combat. The deli-
verance of Caric-thura is the subject of the poem ; but se-
veral other episodes are interwoven witli it. It appears
from tradition, that this poem was addressed to a Culdee,
or one' of the first Christian missionaries, and that the story
of the Spirit of I^oda, supposed to be the ancient Odin of
Scandanavia, was introduced by Ossian in opposition to
the Culdee^s doctrine. Be this as it will, it lets ns into
Ossian^i notions of a superior being ; and shows that he
was not addicted to the superstition which prevailed all the
world over, before the introduction of Christianity.

GARIC-THURA.

Hast * thou left thy blue course in heaven,
golden-haired son of the sky? The west has opened
its gates ; the bed of thy repose is there. The
waves come to behold thy beauty. They lift their
trembling heads. They see thee, lovely in thy
sleep ; they shrink away with fear. Rest in thy sha-
dowy cave, O sun ! Let thy return be in joy.

But let a thousand hghts arise to the sound of
the harps of Selma : Let the beam spread in the
hall, the king of shells is returned ! The strife of
Camn is past, t like sounds that are no more.
Raise the song, O bards ! the king is returned with
his fame !

Such were the words of Ullin, when Fingal re-
tui-ned from war; when he returned in the fair
blushing of youth, with all his heavy locks. His
blue arms were on the hero ; hke a light cloud on
the sun, when he moves in his robes of mist, and

* The song of Ullin, with which the poem opens, is in a lyric mea-
sure. It was usual with Fingal, when he returned from his expeditions,
to send his bards singing before him. This species of triumph is called,
by Ossian, the song of victory.

t Ossian has celebrated<A^5/ri/eq/Cro«a in a particular poem. This
poem is connected with it ; but it was impossible for the translator to
procure that part which relate* to Crona, with any degree of purity.

44 CARIC-THURA.

Tale of Shilric and Vinvela, sung before Flngal, by his bards.

shows but half his beams. His lieioes follow the
king. The feast of shells is spread. Fiiigal turns
to his bards, and bids the song to rise.

Voices of echoing Cona ! he said, O bards of
other times ! Ye, on whose souls the blue hosts of
our fathers rise ! Strike the harp in my hall ; and
let me hear the song. Pleasant is the joy of giief !
It is like the shower of spring, when it softens the
branch of the oak, and the young leaf rears its
green head. Sing on, O bards ! to-mon-ow we lift
the sail. My blue com-se is through the ocean,
to Caric-thura's walls ; the mossy walls of Samo,
where Comala dwelt. There the noble CathuUa
spreads the feast of shells. The boars of liis woods
are many ; the sound of the chace shall arise !

Cronnan, * son of the song ! said Ullin, Minona,
graceful at the haii3 ! raise the tale of Shilric to
please the king of Morven. Let Vinvela come in
her beauty, like the showery bow, when it shows its
lovely head on the lake, and the setting sun is bright.
She comes, O Fingal ! Her voice is soft but sad.

Vinvela. My love is a son of the hill. He
pursues the flying deer. His gi-ey dogs are pan-
ting around him ; his bow-string sounds in the
wind. Dost thou rest by the fount of the rock, or
by the noise of the mountain-stream ? The rushes

* One should think that the parts of Shilric and Vinvela were repre-
sented by Cronnan and Minona, whose very nances deno te that they
were singers, who performed in public. Cronnan signifies a mournful
Sound, Minona, or Min'onn » soft air. All the dramatic poems of Ossian
appear to have been presented before Fingal, upon solemn occasions.

CARIC-THURA. 4,5

Tale of Shilric and Vinvela continued.

are nodding to the wind, the mist iflies over the
hill. I will approach my love unseen ; I will be-
hold him from the rock. Lovely I saw thee first
by the aged oak of Branno ; * thou wert returning
tall from the chace ; the fairest among thy friends.

Shilric. What voice is that I hear? That
voice like the summer-wind ! I sit not by the nod-
ding rushes ; I heai" not the fount of the rock.
Afar, Vinvela, t afar I go to the wars of Fingal.
My dogs attend me no more. No more I tread
the hill. No more from on high I see thee, fair
moving by the stream of the plain ; bright as the
bow of heaven ; as the moon on the western wave.

Vinvela. Then thou art gone, O Shilric I I
am alone on the hill ! The deer are seen on the
brow ; void of fear they giaze along. No more
they dread the wind ; no more the rustling tree.
The hunter is far removed ; he is in the field of
graves. Strangers ! sons of the waves ! spare my
lovely Shilric !

Shilric. If fall I must in the field, raise high
my grave, Vinvela. Gray stones, and heaped-up
earth, shall mark me to future times. When the
hunter shall sit by the mound, and produce his food
at noon, " Some warrior rests here," he will say ;

* Bran, or Branno, signifies a mountain stream : it is here some river
known by that name in the days of Ossian. There are several small
rivers in the north of Scotland still retaining the name of Bran ; in par-
ticular, one which falls into the Tay at Dunkeld.

t Bhin bhuel, a woman with a melodious voice- Bh^ in the Gaehc
language, has the same sound with the v in English.

64 CAKIC-THUKA.

Tale of Shilric and Vinvela continued.

and my fame shall live in his praise. Remember
me, Vinvela, when low on earth I lie !

Vinvela. Yes ! I will remember thee ; alas !
my Shilric will fall ! What shall I do, my love !
when thou art for ever gone ? Through these hills
I will go at noon. I will go through the silent
heath. There I will see the place of thy rest, re-
turning from the chace. Alas ! my Shilric will fall ;
but I will remember Shilric.

And I remember the chief, said the king of
woody Morven ; he consumed the battle in his rage.
But now my eyes behold him not. I met him one
day, on the hill ; his cheek was pale ; his brow was
dark. The sigh was frequent in his breast : His
steps were towards the desart. But now it is not
in the crowd of my chiefs, when the sounds of my
shields arise. Dwells he in the narrow house, *
the chief of high Carmora ? f

Cronnan ! said UlUn of other times, raise the
song of Shilric ; when he returned to his hills, and
Vinvela was no more. He leaned on her gray
mossy stone ; he tliought Vinvela lived. He saw
her fair moving :{: on the plain : But the bright form
lasted not : The sun-beam fled from the field, and

* The grave-

t Cam inor, high rocky hill.

+ The distinction which the ancient Scots made between good and
bad spirits, was, that the fonncr appeared sometimes in the day time in
lonely unfrequented places, but the latter never but by night, and in a
dismal gloomy scene.

CARIC-THURA.

Tale of Shilrlc «in<J Vinvela continued.

she was seen no more. Hear the song of Shib-ic,
it is soft but sad !

I sit by the mossy fountain ; on the top of the
hill of winds. One tree is rustling above me.
Dark waves roll over the heath. The lake is trou-
bled beloAv. The deer descend fi'om the hill. No
hunter at a distance is seen. It is mid-day ; but
all is silent. Sad are my thoughts alone. Didst
thou but ajjpear, O my love ! a Avanderer on the
heath ! thy hair floating on the wind behind thee ;
thy bosom heaving on the sight ; thine eyes full of
tears for thy friends, whom the mist of the hill had
concealed ! Tliee I Avould comfort, my love, and
bring thee to thy father's house !

But is it she that there appears, like a beam of
light on the heath ! bright as the moon in autumn,
as the sun in a summer-stonn, comest thou, O
maid, over rocks, over mountains, to me? She
speaks ; but hoAv weak her voice ! like the breeze
in the reeds of the lake.

" Retuniest thou safe from the war ? Where are
thy fi-iends, my love ; I heard of thy death on the
hill ; I heard and mourned thee, Shilric ! Yes, my
fair, I return ; but I alone of my race. Thou shalt
see them no more : Their graves I raised on the
plain. But why art thou on the desart hill ? Why
on the heath alone ?

" Alone I am, O Shilric ! alone in the winter
house. With grief for thee I fell. Shih-ic, I am
pale in the tomb."

She fleets, she sails awav ; as mist before tlie

48 CARIC-THURA.

Fingal arrives in the bay of Caric-thura.

wind ! And, wilt thou not stay, Vinvela ? Stay and
behold my tears ? Fair thou appearest, Vinvela !
Fair thou wast when alive !

By the mossy fountain I will sit ; on the top of
the hill of winds. When mid-day is silent around,
O talk with me, Vinvela ; Come on the light winged
gale ! on the breeze of the desart, come ! Let me
hear thy voice, as thou passest, when mid-day is
silent around !

Such was the song of Cronnan on the night of
Selma's joy. But morning rose in the east ; the
blue waters rolled in light. Fingal bade his sails
to rise ; the winds came rusthng from their liills.
Inistore rose to sight, and Camc-thura's mossy
towers ! But the sign of distress was on their top :
The warning flame edged Avith smoke. The king
of Morven struck his breast : He assumed, at once,
his spear. His darkened brow bends forward to
the coast : He looks back to the lagging winds.
His hair is disordered on his back. The silence of
the king is ten-ible !

Night came down on the sea ; Rotha's bay re-
ceived the ship. A rock bends along the coast
with all its echoing Avood. On the top is the cir-
cle * of Loda, the mossy stone of power ! A nar-
row plain spreads beneath, covered with grass and
aged trees, which the midnight winds, in their
wi-ath, had torn from the shaggy rock. The blue

• The circle of Loda is supposed to be a place of worship among the
Scandinavians, as the spirit of Loda is thought to be the same with their
god Odin.

CARIC-THURA. 49

Fingal encounters Loda, the ScandinaTian Deity.

course of a stream is there ! The lonely blast of
ocean pursues the thistle's beard. The flame of
three oaks arose : The feast is spread around.
But the soul of the king is sad, for Caric-thura's
chief distrest.

The Avan, cold moon rose, in the east. Sleep
descended on the youth ! Their blue helmets glit-
ter to the beam ; the fading fire decays. But sleep
did not rest on the king ; he rose in the midst of
his arais, and slowly ascended the hill, to behold
the flame of Samo's tower.

The flame was dim and distant ; the moon hid
her red face in the east. A blast came from the
mountain, on its wings was the spirit of Loda.
He came to his place in liis terrors, * and shook
his dusky spear. His eyes appear like flames in
his dai-k face ; his voice is like distant thunder.
Fingal advanced ^N-ith the spear of his strength, and
raised his voice on high.

Son of night, retire : Call thy winds, and fly !
Why dost thou come to my presence, with thy
shadoAAy arms ? Do I fear thy gloomy form, spirit
of dismal Loda ? Weak is thy shield of clouds :
Feeble is that meteor, thy sword ! The blast rolls
them together ; and thou thyself art lost. Fly from
my presence, son of night ! call thy winds and fly !

Dost thou force me from my place, repUed the
hollow voice ? The people bend before me. I
turn the battle in the field of the brave. I look on

• He is described, in a simile, in the poem concerning tlie death of
C«thullin.

VOL I. E

50 CARIO-THURA.

Encounter of Fingal with Loda.

the nations, and they vanish : My nostrils pour
tlie blast of death, I come abroad on the Avinds :
The tempests are before my face. But my dwel-
ling is calm, above the clouds ; the fields of my rest
are pleasant.

Dwell in thy pleasant fields, said the king : Let
Comhal's son be forgot. Do my steps ascend,
from my hills, into thy peaceful plains ? Do I meet
thee, with a spear, on thy cloud, spirit of dismal
Loda ? Why then dost thou fiOAvn on me ? Why
shake thine airy spear ? Thou fro\\Tiest in vain :
I never fled from the mighty in war. And shall
the sons of the wind frighten the king of Morven ?
No : he knows the weakness of their arms !

Fly to thy land, replied the form : Receive the
wind, and fly ! The blasts are in the hollow of my
hand : The course of the storm is mine. The king
of Sora is my son, he bends at the stone of my
power. His battle is around Caric-thura ; and he
Avill prevail ! Fly to thy land, son of Comhal, or
feel my flaming ^Tath !

He lifted high his shadowy spear ! He bent for-
ward his dreadful heiglit. Fingal advancing, drew
his sword ; the blade of dark brov^Ti Luno. * The
gleaming path of the steel w'uKh througii tlie gloomy
ghost. The form fell sha])eless into air, like a co-
lumn of smoke, which the staiF of the boy disturbs
as it rises from the half extinguished furnace.

The spirit of Loda shrieked, as, rolled into him-

* The famous sword of Fingal, made by Lim or Luno, a smith of
LochUn.

CARICTHURA.

Frothal's quarrel with CathuUa.

self, he rose on the wdnd. Inistore shook at the
sound. The waves heard it on the deep. They
stopped, in their course, Avith fear : The friends of
Fingal started, at once ; and took their heavy spears.
They missed the king : They rose in rage ; all their
arms resound !

The moon came forth in the east. Fingal re-
tmned in the gleam of his arms. The joy of his
youth was great, their souls settled, as a sea from
a storm. Ullin raised the song of gladness. The
hills of Inistore rejoiced. The flame of the oak
arose ; and the tales of heroes are told.

But Frothal, Sora's wrathful king, sits in sadness
beneath a tree. The host spreads around Caric-
thura. He looks towards the walls with rage. He
longs for the blood of Cathulla, who once overcame
him in war. When Annir reigned * in Sora, the
father of sea-bom Frothal, a storm arose on the sea,
and carried Frothal to Inistore. Three days he
feasted in Samo's lialls, and saw the slow rolling
€yes of Comala. He loved her, in the flame of
youth, and rushed to seize the white-anned maid.
CathuUa met the chief. The gloomy battle rose.
Frothal was bound in the hall ; three days he pined
alone. On the fourth, Samo sent him to his ship,
and he returned to liis land. But ^aath darkened
in his soul against the noble Cathulla. When An-

* Annir was also the father of Erragon, who was king after the death
ef his brother Frothal. The death of Erragon is the subject of the bai-
tie o/Lora, a poem in this collection

52 CARICTHURA.

Frothal, king of Sora, prepares to engage Fingal.

nir's stone * of fame arose, Frothal came in his
strength. The battle burned round Caric-thura,
and Sanio's mossy walls.

Morning rose on Inistore. Frothal struck his
dark-brown shield. His chiefs started at the
sound ; they stood, but their eyes were turned to
the sea. They saw Fingal coming in his strength ;
and first the noble Thubar spoke. " Who comes
like the stag of the desart, with all his herd behind
him ? Frothal, it is a foe ! I see his forward spear.
Perhaps it is the king of Morven, Fingal the first
of men. His deeds are well known in Lochlin :
The blood of his foes is in Samo's halls. Shall I
ask the peace f of kings ? His sword is the bolt
of heaven !"

Son of the feeble hand, said Frothal, shall my
days begin in a cloud ? Shall I yield before I have
conquered, chief of streamy Tora? The people
would say in Sora, Frothal flew forth like a meteor ;
but a darkness has met him ; and his fame is no
more. No ; Thubar, I will never yield ; my fame
shall surround me like light. No: I will never
yield, chief of streamy Tora !

He went forth with the stream of his people, but
they met a rock : Fingal stood unmoved, broken
they rolled back from his side. Nor did they safe-
ly fly ; the spear of the king pursued their steps.

• That is, after the death of Annir. To erect the stone of one's fame ,
was, in other words, to say that the person was dead,
t Honourable terms of peac«.

CARICTHURA. ^s

Frothal's army being put to flight, he demands the combat, from Fiiigal.

The field is covered with heroes. A rising hill
preserved the foe.

Frothal saw their flight. The rage of his bosom
rose. He bent his eyes to the ground, and called
the noble Thubar. Thiibar ! my people are fled.
My fame has ceased to arise. I will fight the king ;
I feel my burning soul ! Send a bard to demand
the combat. Speak not against Frothal's words !
But, Thubar ! I love a maid ; she dwells by Thano's
stream, the white-bosomed daughter of Herman,
Utha mth soft-rolling eyes. She feared the low
laid Comala ; her secret sighs rose, when I spread
the sail. Tell to Utha of hai'ps that my soul de-
lighted in her.

Such were his words resolved to fight. The soft
sigh of Utha was near ! She had followed her hero
in the armour of a man. She rolled her eye on the
youth, in secret, from beneath her steel. She saw
the bard as he went ; the spear feU thrice from her
hand ! Her loose hair flew in the wind. Her wliite
breast rose, with sighs. She raised her eyes to the
king. She would speak, but thrice she failed.

Fingal heard the words of the bard : he came in
the strength of his steel. They mixed their death-
ful spears : They raised the gleam of their arms.
But the sword of Fingal descended, and cut Fro-
thal's shield in twain. His fair side is exposed ;
half bent he foresees his death. Darkness gathered
on Utha's soul. The tear rolled down her cheek.
She rushed to cover the chief with her shield ; but
a fallen oak met her steps. She fell on her arm of
e2

54 CARIC-THURA.

Fingal spares the vanquished Frothal.

snow ; her shield, her helmet flew wide. Her white
bosom heaved to the sight ; her dark-brown hair is
spread on earth.

Fingal pitied the white-armed maid ! he stayed
the uplifted sword. The tear was in the eye of the
king, as, bending forward, he spoke. " King of
streamy Sora ! fear not the sword of Fingal : It was
never stained with the blood of the vanquished ; it
never pierced a fallen foe. Let thy people rejoice
by thy native streams. Let the maids of thy love
be glad. Why shouldest thou fall in thy youth,
king of streamy Sora ?" Frothal heard the words
of Fingal, and saw the rising maid : They * stood
in silence, in their beauty : Like two young trees
of the plain, when the shower of spring is on their
leaves, and the loud winds are laid.

Daughter of Herman, said Frothal, didst thou
come from Tora's streams ; didst thou come, in thy
beauty, to behold thy warrior low? But he was
low before the mighty, maid of the slow rolling
eye! The feeble did not overcome the son of
car-borne Annir ! Terrible art thou, O king of
Morven ! in battles of the spear. But, in peace,
thou art like the sun, when he looks through a silent
shower : The flowers lift their fair heads before
him ; the gales shake their rustling wings. O that
thou wert in Sora ! that my feast were spread ! The
future kings of Sora would see thy arms and rejoice.

* Frothal and Utha.

CARIC-THURA. 55

The generous Fingal invites his enemy to the feast of shells.

They would rejoice at the fame of their fathers, who
beheld the mighty Fingal !

Son of Annir, replied the king, the fame of
Sora's race shall be heard ! Wlien chiefs are strong
in war, then does the song arise ! But if their
swords are stretched over the feeble : If the blood
of the weak has stained their arms ; the bard shall
forget them in the song, and their tombs shall not
be known. The stranger shall come and build
there, and remove the heaped-up earth. An half-
worn sword shall rise before him ; bending above
it, he will say, " These are the arms of the chiefs
of old, but their names are not in song." Come
thou, O Frothal ! to the feast of Inistore ; let the
maid of thy love be there ; let our faces brighten
with joy !

Fingal took his spear, moving in the steps of his
might. The gates of Caric-thura are opened wide.
The feast of shells is spread. The soft sound of
music arose. Gladness brightened in the hall. The
voice of Ullin was heard ; the hai-p of Selma was
strung. Utha rejoiced in his presence, and de-
manded the song of grief ; the big tear hung in her
eye, when the soft * Crimora spoke. Crimora the
daughter of Rinval, who dwelt at Lotha's f roaring

* There is a propriety in introducing this episode, as the situations
of Crimora and Utha were so similar.

t Lotha was the ancient name of one of the great rivers in the north
of Scotland. The only one of them that still retains a name of a like
sound is Lochy, in Invernesshire ; but whether it is the river mcntioued
here, the translator will not pretend to say.

56 CARIC-THURA.

story of Connal, one of the Fingalian heroes.

Stream ! The tale was long but lovely ; and pleased
the blushing Utha.

Crimora. * Who Cometh from the hill, like a
cloud tinged with the beam of the west ? Whose
voice is that, loud as the wind, but pleasant as the
harp of Can-il ? t It is my love in the light of steel:
but sad is his darkened brow ! Live the mighty
race of Fingal, or Avliat darkens in Connal's soul ? :|;

Connal. They live ; they return from the chace,
like a stream of liglit. The sun is on their shields.
Like a ridge of fire they descend the hill. Loud
is the voice of the youth! the AVar, my love is near!
To-mon"ow the dreadful Daigo comes to try the
force of our race. Tlie race of Fingal he defies ;
the race of battle and wounds !

Crimora. Connal, I saw his sails, like gray
mist on the dark-broAvn wave. They slowly came
to land. Connal, many are the wairiors of Dargo !

Connal. Bring me thy father's shield ; the bos-
sy, iron shield of Rinval ; that shield like the full
orbed moon, when she moves darkened through
heaven !

CriiMora. That shield I bring, O Connal ! but

*■ Cri-mora, a woman of great soul.

t Perhaps the Carril mentioned here is the same with Carril the son
of Kinfena, CuthuUin's bard. The name itself is proper to any bard,
as it signifies a sprightly and hartnonious sound-

$ Connal, the son of Diaran, was one of the most famous heroes of
Fingal ; he was slain in a battle against Dargo, a Briton ; but whether
by the hand of the enemy, or that of his mistress, tradition does not
determine.

CARICTHURA. 57

story of Connal continued.

it did not defend my father. By the spear of
Gormar he fell. Thou may'st fall, O Connal !

Connal. Fall I may! But raise my tomb,
Crimora ! Gray stones, a mound of earth, shall
send my name to other times. Bend thy red eye
over my grave, beat thy mournful heaving breast.
Though fair thou art, my love, as the light; more
pleasant than the gale of the hill ; yet I will not
here remain. Raise my tomb, Crimora?

Crimora. Then give me those aims that gleam;
that sword, and that spear of steeL I shall meet
Dargo with Connal, and aid him in the fight.
Farewell, ye rocks of Ardven ! ye deer! and ye
streams of the hill! We shall return no more.
Our tombs are distant far !

^' And did they return no more?" said Utha's.
bursting sigh. " Fell the mighty in battle, and
did Crimora Uve ? Her steps were lonely ; her soul
was sad for Connal. Was he not yoimg and
lovely ; like the beam of the setting sun ? " UlUn
saw the vii-gin's tear, he took the softly trembling
harp : the song was lovely, but sad, and silence was
in Caric-thura.

Autumn is dark on the mountains; gray mist
rests on the hills. The whirlwind is heard on the
heath. Dark rolls the river through the narrow
plain. A tree stands alone on the hill, and marks
the slumbering Connal. The leaves whiil round
with the ^Wnd, and strew the grave of the dead.
At times are seen here the ghosts- of the departed,.

58 CARIC-THURA.

story of Connal continued.

vvlien the musing hunter alone stalks slowly over
the heath.

Who can reach the source of thy race, O Con-
nal ! who recount thy fathers ? Thy family grew
like an oak on the mountahi, which meeteth the
wind with its lofty head. But noAV it is torn from
the earth. Who shall supply the place of Connal?
Here was the din of arms ; here the gioans of the
d)dng. Bloody are the wars of Fingal, O Connal !
It was here thou didst fall. Thine arm Avas like a
storm ; thy sword a beam of the sky ; thy height, a
rock on the plain ; thine eyes a furnace of fire.
Louder than a storm Avas thy Aoice, in the battles
of thy steel. Warriors fell by thy sAA^ord, as the
thistle by the staff of a boy. Dargo the mighty
€ame on, darkening in his rage. His brows AAere
gathered into AArath. His eyes like tAAO caA-es in a
rock. Bright rose their swords on each side ; loud
was the clang of their steel.

The daughter of RinA'al was near; Crimora
bright in the armour of man; her yellow hair is
loose behind, her boAV is in her hand. She followed
the youth to the Avar, Connal, her much beloAed.
She dreAv the string on Dargo ; but emng she
pierced her Connal. He falls like an oak on the
plain ; like a rock from the shaggy hilk What shall
she do, hapless maid ! He bleeds ; her Connal
dies ! All the night long she cries, and all the day,
" O Connal, my loA'e and my friend !" With grief
the sad mourner dies ! Earth here incloses the

CARICTHURA. 59

After feasting three days, Fingal returns to Morven.

loveliest pair on the hill. The gi-ass gi'ows between
the stones of the tomb : I often sit in the mournful
shade. The vnnd sighs through the gi*ass ; their
memory rushes on my mind. — Undisturbed you
now sleep together ; in the tomb of the mountain
you rest alone !

And soft be their rest, said Utha, haples children
of streamy Lotha ! I will remember them with
tears, and my secret song shall rise ; when the
vnnd is in the gi'oves of Tora, when the stream is
roaring near. Then shall they come on my soul,
with all their lovely grief!

Three days feasted the kings : On the fourth
their white sails arose. The ^^dnds of the north
drove Fingal to Morven's woody land. But the
spirit of Loda sat, in his cloud, behind the ships of
Frothal. He hung fonvard with all his blasts, and
spread the white-bosomed sails. The wounds of
his form were not forgot ; he still feared * the hand
of the king !

» The story of Fingal and the spirit of Loda, supposed to be the fa-
mous Odin, is the most extravagant fiction in all Ossian's poems. It is
not, however, without precedents in the best poets ; and it must be said
for Ossian, that he says nothing but what perfecty agreed with the no-
tions of the times concerning ghosts. They thought the souls of the
dead were material, and consequently susceptible of pain. Whether a
proof could be drawn from this passage, that Ossian had no notion of a
Divinity, I shall leave to others to determine : It appears, however, that
he was of opinion, that superior beings ought to take no notice of what
passed among men.

C A R T H O N :

9i Poem*

ARGUMENT.

This poem is complete, and the suhjcct of it, as of most ofOs-
sian''s compositions, tragical. In the time of Comhal, the
son of Trathal, and father of the cdchrntcd^F'uigal, Clcs-
samor, the son of Thaddu and brother of Morna, FingaVs
•mother, was driven iy a storm into the river Chide, on the
banks of which stood Balclutha, a town hchmgiug to the Bri-
tons between the walls. He was hospital)!// received hi/ Reu-
thamir, the principal man in theplace^ xchogave hint Moina,
his onlyduiigliter, in inarriagf. Heiida., the sou (fGormo,
a Briton, who was in love ^cifh JMoiua^ came to Hentha-
mir^s honse, and behaved Jiunglttily towards Clessammor.
A quarrel ensued, in which Reuda was killed ,• the Britons
who attended him pressed so hard on Clessammor, that he
was obliged to throw himself into the Clyde, and swim to his
ship. He hoisted sail, and the wind being fivonrable, bore
him out to sea. He after endeavoured lo rtiurn, and carry
off his beloved Moina by night ; bat the wind continuing
contrary, lie xcas forced to desist.

Moina, who fiad been left with child by her husband,
broughtforthason,and died soon after. — Reuthamir named
thecliild Carthon,!. e. the murmur of waves,/ro/w//«?*/or7??
which carried off Clessam mo r his father, who was supjwsed
to have been cast away. When Carthon was three years
old, Comhal, the Father of Fingal, in one of his expeditions
against the Britons, took and 'bnnit BaJdutha. Itentha-
mir was killed in the attack ,• and Carlhun was carried safe
away by his nurse, who fled farther into the country of the
Britons. Carthon, coming' to >nan\s estate, was resolved to
revenge the fall of Balclutha, on Comhars posterity. He
set sail fro?)! the Clyde, tnuffalliug on t/ie coast ofMorven,
defeated two of FingaTs heroes, -,cho came to o/)/>ose his pro-
gress. He -was, at last, uuwittiughi killed by his father,
Clessammor, in a single combat. 1 his story is the founda-
tion of the present poem, which opens on the night /ireceding
the death of Carthon, so that what /uisscd before is intro-
duced by wai/ of episode. This poou is addressed to Mal-
vin, the daughter of Toscar.

CART HON.

A TALE of the times of old ! The deeds of days
of other years !

The murmur of thy streams, O Lora! hriiigs
back the memory of the past. The sound of thy
woods, Garmallar, is lovely in mine ear. Dost
thou not behold, Malvina, a rock with its head of
heath ? Three aged pines bend from its face ;
gieen is the narrow plain at its feet; there the
flower of the momitain grows, and shakes its white
head in the breeze. The thistle is there alone
shedding its aged beard. Two stones, half sunk
in the ground, show their heads of moss. The
deer of the mountain avoids the place, for he be-
holds a dim ghost standing there.* The mighty
lie, O Mahdna, in the nanow plain of the rock.

A tale of the days of old ! the deeds of days of
other years !

Who comes from the land of strangers, with
his thousands around him ? the sun-beam pours
its bright stream before him ; his hair meets the
wind of his hills. His face is settled from war.
He is calm as the evening beam that looks, from

» It was the opinion of the times that' deer saw the ghosts of the dead-
To this day, when beasts suddenly start, without any apparent cause,
the vulgar think that they see the spirits of the deceased.

64 CAHTHON.

Fingal returns victorious over the Rom,

the cloud of the west, on Cona's silent vale. Who
is it but Comhal's son,* the king of mighty deeds !
He beholds his hills with joy, he bids a thousand
voices rise. " Ye have fled over your fields, ye
sons of the distant land ! The king of the worid
sits in his hall, and hears of his people's flight. He
lifts his red eye of pride : He takes his father's
sword. Ye have fled over your fields, sons of the
distant land !"

Such were the words of the bards, when they
came to Selma's halls. A thousand lights f from
the stranger's land rose, in the midst of the people.
The feast is spread around ; the night passed away
in joy. Where is the noble Clessammor,:J: said the
fair-haired Fingal ? Where is the brother of Mor-
na, in the hour of my joy ? Sullen and dark he
passes his days in the vale of echoing Lora : But,
behold, he comes from the hill, like a steed in his
strength, who finds his companions in the breeze ;
and tosses his bright mane in the wind. Blest be
the soul of Clessammor, why so long from Selma ?

Returns the chief, said Clessammor, in the midst
of his fame ? Such was the renown of Comhal in
the battles of his youth. Often did we pass over
Carun to the land of the strangers : Our swords

* Fingal returns here, from an expedition against the Romans, which
was celebrated by Ossian, in a poem called the Strtfe of Crona.

t Probably wax-lights, which are often mentioned as carried, among
other booty, from the Roman province.

t Clessamh mor, mighty deed*.

CARTHON. 65

The story of Clessammor, one of Fingal's heroes.

returned, not unstained with blood : Nor did the
kmgs of the world rejoice ? Why do I remember
the times of om* war? My hair is mixed with
gray. My hand forgets to bend the bow ! I lift
a hghter spear. O that my joy would return, as
when I first beheld the maid ; the white-bosomed
daughter of strangers, Moina, * Avith the dark-blue
eyes !

Tell, said the mighty Fingal, the tale of thy
youthful days. Soitow, like a cloud on the sun,
shades the soul of Clessammor. Mournful are thy
thoughts, alone, on the banks of the roaring Lora.
Let us hear the sorrow of thy youth, and the dark-
ness of thy days !

" It was in the days of peace," repUed the great
Clessammor, " I came in my bounding ship, to
Balclutha's f walls of towers. The winds had
roared behind my sails, and Clutha's :}: streams re-
ceived my dark-bosomed ship. Three days I re-
mained in Reuthamir's halls, and saw his daughter,
that beam of light. The joy of the shell went
round, and the aged hero gave the fair. Her
breasts were like foam on the wave, and her eyes
like stars of light : Her hair was dark as the raven's

* Moina, soft in temper and person. We find the British name in this
poem derived from the Gaelic, which is a proof that the ancient lan-
guage of the whole island was one and the same,
t Balclutha, i. e. the town of Clyde, probably the ^/c/«<//,of Bede-
t Clutha, or Cluath, the Gaelic name of the river Clyde; the signifi-
cation of the word is bendiiifr, in allusion to the winding course of that
river. FromClutha is derived its Latin name, Glot

f2

66 CARTHON.

The storjf of Clessammor continued.

wing : Her soul was generous and mild. My love
for Moina was gi-eat : My heart poured forth in
joy.

*' The son of a stranger came ; a chief who loved
the white-bosomed Moina. His words were mighty
in the hall ; he often half-unsheathed his sword.
Where, said he, is the mighty Comhal, the restless
wanderer * of the heath ? Comes he, with his host,
to Balclutha, since Clessammor is so hold ? My soul,
I replied, O warrior ! bums in a light of its own.
I stand without fear in the midst of thousands,
though the valiant are distant far. Stranger ! thy
words are mighty, for Clessammor is alone. But my
sword trembles by my side, and longs to glitter in
my hand. Speak no more of Comhal, son of the
winding Clutha !

" The strength of his pride arose. We fought ;
he fell beneath my sword. The banks of Clutha
heard his fall ; a thousand spears glittered around.
I fought : The strangers prevailed : I plunged into
the stream of Clutha. My white sails rose over
the waves, and I bounded on the dai-k-blue sea.
Moina came to the shore, and rolled the red eye of
her tears : Her loose hair flew on the wind ; and I
heard her moumfnl, distant cries. Often did I turn
my ship; but the winds of the East prevailed. Nor
Clutha ever since have I seen, nor Moina of the

* The word in the original here rendered by restless wanderer is
Scuta, which is the true origin of the Scoti of the Romans ; an oppro-
brious name imposed by the Britons on the Caledonians, on account of
the continual incursions into their country.

CARTHON. 67

I, beautifully described by Fingal.

dark-browTi hair. She fell in Balclutha, for I liave
seen her ghost. I knew her as she came tlu*ougli
the dusky night, along the murmui' of Lora : She
was hke the new moon, seen through the gathered
mist ; when the sky pours down in flaky snow,
and the world is silent and dark."

Raise,* ye bards, said the mighty Fingal, the
praise of miliappy IVIoina. Call her ghost, with
your songs, to our hills ; that she may rest with
the fair of Moi'ven, the sun-beams of other days,
the delight of heroes of old. I have seen the walls
of Balclutha, but they were desolate. The fire had
resounded in the halls : And the voice of the peo-
ple is heard no more. The stream of Clutha was
removed from its place, by the fall of the walls.
The thistle shook, there, its lonely head : The moss
whistled to the wind. The fox looked out from
the windows, the rank grass of the wall waved
round its head. Desolate is the dwelling of Moina,
silence is in the house of her fathers. Raise the
song of mourning, O bards ! over the land of stran-
gers. They have but fallen before us : For one
day we must fall. Why dost thou build the hall,
son of the winged days ? Thou lookest from thy
towers to-day ; yet a few years and the blast of the

» The title of the poem, in the original, is Diian na nlot ; i. e. Tlie
Poem of the Hymns ; probably on account of its many digressions from
the subject, all of which are in a lyric measure, ls this song of Fingal.
Fingal is celebrated by the Irish historians for his wisdom in making
laws, his poetical genius, and his foreknowledge of event's. O'Flaherty
goes so far as to say, that Fingal's laws were extant in his own time.

68 CARTHON.

the death of heroes.

desalt comes ; it liowls in tlie empty comt, and
whistles round thy half-worn shield. And let the
blast of the desart come ! We shall he renowned
in our day ! The mark of my arm shall he in bat-
tle ; my name in the son^ of bards. Raise the
song- ; send round the shell : Let joy be heard in
my hall. When thou, sun of heaven shalt fail ! If
thou shalt fail, thou mighty light ! if tliy brightness
is for a season, like Fingal, om* fame shall siu'vive
thy beams !

Such WHS the song of Fingal, in the day of his
joy. His thousand bards leaned forward, fi'om
their seats, to hear the voice of the king. It Avas
like the music of harps on the gale of the spring.
Lovely were thy thoughts, O Fingal ! Why had
not Ossian the strength of thy soul? But thou
standest alone, my father! Who can equal the
king of Selma ?

The night passed away in song; morning re-
turned in joy. The mountains shoAved their gray
heads ; the blue face of ocean smiled. The white
wave is seen tumbling round the distant rock ; a
mist rose, slowly, ftom the lake. It came, in the
figure of an aged man, along the silent plain. Its
large limbs did not move in steps ; for a ghost sup-
ported it in mid air. It came towards Selma's
hall, and dissolved in a shower of blood.

The king alone beheld the sight ; he foresaw
the death of the people. He came, in silence, to
his hall ; and took his father's s])ear. The mail
rattled on his breast. The heroes rose around.

CARTHON. 69

Fingal warns to piepare for battle.

They looked, in silence, on each other ; marking
the eyes of Fingal. They saw battle in his face :
the death of armies on his spear. A thousand
shields, at once, are placed on their arms ; they
drew a thousand swords. The hall of Selma
brightened around. The clang of arms ascends.
The gray dogs howl in their place. No word is
among the mighty cliiefs. Each marked the eyes
of the king ; and half assumed his spear.

" Sons of Morven," begun the king, " this is no
time to fill the shell. The battle darkens near us;
death hovers over the land. Some ghost, the fiiend
of Fingal, has forewarned us of the foe. The sons
of the stranger come from the darkly-rolling sea.
For, from the water, came the sign of Moi-^'en's
gloomy danger. Let each assume his heavy spear,
each gird on his father's sword. Let the dark
helmet rise on every head ; the mail pour its
lightnings from every side. The battle gathers
Uke a storm ; soon shall ye hear the roar of death."

The hero moved on before his host, hke a cloud
before a ridge of gi-een fire ; when it pours on the
sky of night, and mariners foresee a stonn. On
Cona's rising heath they stood: the white-bosomed
maids beheld them above like a grove ; they foresaw
the death of the youth, and looked tOAvards the sea
with fear. The white wave deceived them for
distant sails ; the tear is on then* cheek ! The sun
rose on the sea, and Ave beheld a distant fleet.
Like the mist of ocean they came ; and poured
their youth upon the coast. The chief AA'as among
them, like the stag in the midst of the herd. His.

70 CARTHON.

Fingal oliers peace to the gallant Caithon, Prince of Balclutha.

shield is studded with gold; stately strode the king
of spears. He moved to^vards Selma; his thousands
moved behind.

" Go, with a song of peace," said Fingal ; " go,
Ullin, to the king of swords. Tell him that we
are mighty in war ; that the ghosts of our foes are
many. But renowned are they Avho have feasted
in my halls ! They show the arms * of my fathers
in a foreign land: the sons of the strangers wonder,
and bless the fiiends of Morven's race ; for our
names have been lieard afar: the kings of the world
shook in the midst of their host."

Ullin went with his song. Fingal rested on his
spear : he saw the mighty foe in his armour. He
blest the stranger's son. " How stately art thou,
son of the sea!" said the king of woody Morven.
" Thy sword is a beam of fire by thy side : thy
spear is a pine that defies the storm. The varied
face of the moon is not broader than thy shield.
Ruddy is thy face of youth ! Soft the ringlets of
thy hair! But this tree may fall; and his memory
be forgot. The daughter of the stranger will be
sad, looking to the rolling sea. The children will
say, ' we see a ship ; perhaps it is the king of
Balclutha.' The tear starts from their mother's
eye. Tier thoughts are of him ^ho sleeps in
Morven."

* It was a custom among the ancient Scots, to exchange arms with
their guests ; and those arms were preserved long in the different fami-
lies, as monuments of tlie friend!>hip which subsisted between their
ancestors

Carthon refuses to feast with the king of Morven.

Sucli were tlie words of tlie king-, wlieii Ulliii
came to the mighty Cartlioii ; he threw down the
spear before him ; he raised tlie song- of peace.
" Come to the feast of Fing'al, Carthon, from the
roUing sea ! Partake of tlie feast of the king-, or
lift the spear of war ! The ghosts of our foes are
many; but reno^Tied are the friends of Morven.
Behold that field, O Carthon ; many a gi-een hill
rises there, Avith mossy stones and rustling grass ;
these are the tombs of Fingal's foes; the sons of the
rolling sea ! "

" Dost thou speak to the weak in arms!" said
Carthon, " bard of the Avoody Morven? Is my
face pale for fear, son of the peaceful song? Why
then dost thou think to darken my soul m ith the
tales of those who fell? My arm has fought in
battle; my renown is knoAvn afar. Go to the feeble
in arms, bid them yield to Fingal. Have not 1
seen the fallen Balclutha ? And shall I feast Avith
Comhal's son? Comhal ! Avho threAv his fire in
the midst of my father's hall ! I Avas young, and
kneAV not the cause Avhy the virgins Avept. The
columns of smoke pleased mine eye, Avhen the)'
rose above my Avails ! I often looked back A\'ith
gladness, Avhen my friends fled along the hill. But
when the years of my youth came on, I beheld the
moss of my fallen Avails : my sigh arose AA'ith the
morning, and my tears descended AAdth night.
Shall I not fight, I said to my soul, against the
children of my foes ? And I Avill fight, O bard I
I feel the strength of my soul,"

72 CARTHON.

Cathul and Connal a»e successively vanquished by the heroic Carthon.

His people gathered around the hero, and drew
at once their shining swords. He stands, in the
midst, hke a pillar of fire ; the tear half-starting
from his eye; for he thought of the fallen Balclutha;
the crowded pride of his soul arose. Sidelong he
looked up to the hill, where our heroes shone in
arms ; the spear trembled in his hand : bending
forward, he seemed to threaten the king.

Shall I, said Fingal to his soul, meet, at once,
the youth ? Shall I stop him, in the midst of his
course, before his fame shall arise ? But the bard
hereafter may say, when he sees the tomb of
Carthon ; — Fingal took his thousands to battle,
before the noble Carthon fell. No ; bard of the
times to come, thou shalt not lessen Fingal's fame.
My heroes will fight the youth, and Fingal behold
the war. If he overcomes, I rush, in my strength,
like the roaring stream of Cona. Who, of my
chiefs, will meet the son of the rolling sea? Many
are his waniors on the coast ; and strong is his
ashen spear !

Cathul * rose in his strength, the son of the
mighty Lormar : tluee hundred youths attend the
chief, the race f of his native streams. Feeble was
his arm against Carthon ; he fell, and his heroes

» Cath-'huil, the eye of battle.

t It appears, from this passage, that clanship was established in the
days of Fingal, though not on the same footing with the present tribes
in the north of Scotland,

CARTHON.

73

The aged Cfessammor goes to combat Carthoii.

fled. Connal * resumed the battle ; but he broke
his heavy spear: he lay bound on the field: Carthon
pursued his people.

Clessammor ! said the king t of Morven, where is
the spear of thy strength? Wilt thou behold
Connal bound ; thy friend, at the stream of Lora ?
Rise, in the light of thy steel, companion of valiant
Comhal ? Let the youth of Balclutha feel the
strength of Morven's race. He rose, in the strength
of his steel, shaking liis gi'izly locks. He fitted the
shield to his side ; he rushed, in the piide of valour.

Carthon stood on a rock; he saw the hero mshino-
on. He loved the dreadful joy of his face : his
strength, in the locks of age ! " Shall I lift that
spear," he said, "that never strikes but once, a foe?
Or shall I, with the words of peace, preserve the
warrior's life ! Stately are his steps of age ! Lovely
the remnant of liis years ! Perhaps it is the
husband of Moina; the father of car-borne Carthon.
Often have I heard that he dwelt at the echoing
stream of Lora."

Such were his words when Clessammor came,
and hfted high his spear. The youth received it
on his shield, and spoke the words of peace,
" Wan-ior of the aged locks ! is there no youth to
lift the spear? Hast thou no son to raise the

« This Connal is very much celebrated in ancient poetry, for his wis-
dom and valour. There is a small tribe still subsisting in the north,
who pretend they are descended from him.

t Fingal did not then know that Carthon was the son of Clessammor.
G

74 CARTHON.

Carthon is mortally wounded by the vanquished Clessammor.

sliifld before liis father, to meet tlie arm of youth?
Is the spouse of thy love no more? Or weeps she
over the tombs of thy sons? Art thou of the kings
of men ? Wliat will be the fame of my sword
shouldst thou fall ?"

" It will be great, thou son of pride!" begun
the tall Clessammor. " I have been renowned in
battle, but I never told my name * to a foe. Yield
to me, son of the wave, then shalt thou know, that
the mark of my sword is in many a field." " I
never yielded, king of spears ! " replied the noble
pride of Carthon : " I have also fought in war : I
behold my future fame. Despise me not, thou
chief of men ! My arm, my spear is strong.
Retire among thy friends, let younger heroes fight."
" Why dost thou wound my soul ? " replied Cles-
sammor, with a tear. " Age does not tremble on
my hand ; I still can lift the sword. Shall I fly in
Fingal's sight ; in the sight of him I love ? Son of
the sea ! I never fled. Exalt thy pointed spear."

They fought, like two contending winds, that
strive to roll the wave. Carthon bade liis spear to
err ; he still thought that the foe was the spouse of
Moina. He broke Clessanmior's beamy 'spear in
twain; he seized his shining sword: l)ut, as Carthon

• To tell one's name to an enemy was reckoned, in those days of her-
oism, a manifest evasion of fighting him; for if it was not known that
friendship subsisted, of old, between the ancestors of the combatants,
the battle immediately ceased, and the ancient amity of their forefathers
was renewed. A man who tells his name to an ene7?ii/, was of old an ig-
nominous term for a cowanl.

CAllTHOxV.

was binding the chief, tlie cliief drew tlie dagger of
his fathers. He saw the foe's uncovered side, and
opened there a wound.

Fingal saw Clessammor low : he moved in tlie
sound of his steel. The host stood silent in his
presence ; tliey turned their eyes to the king. He
came, like the sullen noise of a storm before the
T^dnds arise : the hunter hears it in the vale, and
retires to the cave of the rock. Carthon stood in
his place : the blood is rushing down his side : he
saw the coming down of the king; his hopes of
fame arose ;* but pale was his cheek : his hair flew
loose, his helmet shook on high : the force of Car-
thon failed ; but his soul was strong.

Fingal beheld the hero's blood ; he stopped the
uplifted spear. " Yield, king of swords ! " said
Comhal's son ; "I behold thy blood. Thou hast been
mighty in battle ; and thy fame shall never fade."
*' Art thou the king so far renowned?" replied the
car-borne Carthon. " Art thou that light of death
that frightens the kings of the world? But why
should Carthon ask? For he is like the stream of
his hills ; strong as a river in his coui'se : swift as
the eagle of heaven. O that 1 had fought with the
king; that my fame might be great in song ! That
the hunter, beholding my tomb, might say, he
fought with the mighty Fingal. But Carthon

• This expression admits of a double meaning, either that Carthon
hoped to acquire glory by killing Fingal j or to be rendered famous by
falUng by his hand. The last is the most probable, as Carthon is alnady
wounded.

76 CARTHON.

Carthon is discovered to be the son of Clessammor.

(lies unknown ; he has poured out his force on the
weak."

" But thou shalt not die unknown!" repHed the
king of woody Moi-ven : " my hards are many, O
Carthon ! Their songs descend to future times.
The children of years to come shall hear the fame
of Carthon, when they sit round the burning oak,*
and the night is spent in songs of old. The hunter,
sitting in the heath, shall hear the rustling blast;
and, raising his eyes, behold the rock where
Carthon fell. He shall turn to his son, and show
the place where the mighty fought. * There the
king of Balclutha fought, hke the strength of a
thousand streams.' "

Joy rose in Carthon's face : he lifted his heavy
eyes. He gave his sword to Fingal, to lie within
his hall, that the memory of Balchitha's king might
remain in Morven. The battle ceased along the
field, the bard had sung the song of peace. The
chiefs gathered round the fallen Carthon ; they
heard his words, with sighs. Silent they leaned
on their spears, while Balclutha's hero spoke. His
hair sighed in the wind, and his voice was sad and
low.

" King of Morven," Carthon said, " I fall in the
midst of my course. A foreign tomb receives, in
youth, the last of Reuthamir's race. Darkness

♦ In the north of Scotland, till very lately, they burnt a large trunk
of an oak at their festivals ; it was called the tnmk of the/cast. Time
had so much consecrated the custom, that the vulgar thought it a kind
of sacrilege to disuse it.

Song of the bards in praise of Carlhoi^.

dwells ill BalclutJia: the shadows of grief iu
Crathmo. But raise my lemeiiibrance on the
banks of Lora ; where my fathers dwelt. Perhaps
the husband of Moina will mouni over l)is fallen
Carthon." His words reached the heart of Cles-
sammor : he fell, in silence, on his son. The host
stood darkened around : no voice is on the plain.
Night came ; the moon, from the east, looked on
the mournful field ; but still they stood, like a
silent grove that lifts its head on Gormal, when
the loud winds are laid, and dark autumn is on the
plain.

Three days they mourned above Carthon ; on
the fourth his father died. In the nan'ow plain of
the rock they lie ; a dim ghost defends their tomb.
There, lovely Moina is often seen ; when the sun-
beam darts on the rock, and all around is dark.
There she is seen, Malvina ! but not like the
daughters of the hill. Her robes are fi-om the
stranger's land, and she is still alone !

Fingal was sad for Carthon ; he commanded his
bards to mark the day, when shadowy autunm
returned ; and often did they mark the day and
sing the hero's praise. " Who comes so dark from
ocean's roar, like autumn's shadowy cloud? Death
is trembling in his hand ! His eyes are flames of
fire! Who roars along dark Lora's heath ? \Mio
but Carthon, king of swords ! The people fall !
see ! how he strides, like the sullen ghost of Mor-
ven ! But there he lies a goodly oak, which

78 CARTHON.

Ossian»5 sublime address to the si

sudden blasts overturned ! When shalt thou rise,
Balclutha's joy? When, Cartlion, shalt thou arise?
Who conies so dark from ocean's roar, like autumn's
shadowy cloud?" Such were the words of the
bards, in the day of their mourning : Ossian often
joined their voice ; and added to their song. My
soul has been mournful for Carthon ; he fell in the
days of his youth. And thou, O Clessammor !
where is thy dwelling in the wind ? Has the
youth forgot his wound ? Flies he on clouds with
thee ? I feel tlie sun, O Malvina ! Leave me to
my rest. Perhaps they may come to my dreams ;
I think I hear a feeble voice ! The beam of
heaven delights to shine on the grave of Carthon ;
I feel it warm around !

O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of
my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy
everlasting light? Thou comest forth, in thy
awful beauty; the stars hide themselves in tlie sky;
the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western
wave. But thou tliyself movest alone ; who can
be a companion of tliy course ! The oaks of the
mountains fall : the mountains themselves decay
with years : the ocean shrinks and grows again :
the moon herself is lost in heaven : — but thou art
for ever the same, rejoicing in the briglitness of thy
course. When the world is dark with tempests ;
when thunder rolls, and lightning flies; thou lookest
in thy beauty, from the clouds, and laughest at the
storm. But to Ossian, thou lookest in vain ; for

CARTHON. 79

Ossian's sublime address to the sun concluded.

he beholds thy beams no more; whether thy
yellow hair flows on the eastern clouds, or thou
tremblest at the gates of the west. But thou art,
perhaps, like me, for a season, thy years will have
an end. Thou shalt sleep in the clouds, careless
of the voice of the morning. Exult then, O sun !
in the strength of thy youth ! Age is dark and
unlovely; it is like the glimmering light of the
moon, when it shines through broken clouds, and
the mist is on the hills ; the blast of the north is on
the plain, the traveller shrinks in the midst of his
journey.

OITHONA:

9i poem.

ARGUMENT.

Gaul^ the son of Morni^ attended Lathtnoti into his own
country^ after his defeat in Morvcn. He was kindly en-
tertahied by Nuath^ the father of Lathmon^ and fell in love
with his daughter^ Oithona. The lady was no less ena-
moured of Gauly and a day was fixed for their marriage.
In the mean time^ Fingal, preparing for an expedition into
the country of the Britons, sent for Gaul. He obeyed, and
went : but not without promising to Oithona to return, if he
survived the war, by a certain day. Lathmon, too, wa^
obliged to attend his father Nuath in his wars, and Oithona
was left alone at Dunlathmon, the seat of the family. Dun-
rommath, lord of Uthal, supposed to be one of the Orkneys,
taking advantage of the absence of her friends, came and
carried off, by force, Oithona, who had formerly rejected
his love, into Tromathon, a desart island, where he con-
cealed her in a cave.

Gaul returned on the day appoitited ; heard of the rape, and
sailed to Tromathon, to revenge himself on Dunro?nmath.
When he landed, he found Oithona disconsolate, and re-
solved not to survive the loss of her honour. She told him
the story of her misfortunes ; and she scarce ended, when
JDunrommath, with his followers, appeared at the further
end of the island. Gaul prepared to attack hi?n, recom-
mending to Oithona to retire till the battle was over. She
seemingly obeyed him ; but she secretly armed herself,
rushed into the thickest of the battle, and was mortally
wounded. Gaul, pursuing the flying enemy, found her
just expiring on the field: he mourned over her, raised
her tomb, and returned to Morven. Thus is the story
handed down by tradition ; nor is it given with any ma-
terial difference in thrpDon^ -a hick opens -with GauVs re-
turn to Dunlathmon, after the rape of Oithona.

OITHONA.

Darkness dwells around Duiilatlmion, though
tlie moon shews half her face on the hill. The
daughter of night turns her eyes away ; she heliolds
the approaching grief. The son of Morni is on
the plain. There is no sound in the hall. No
long-streaming beam of light comes trembUng
through the gloom. The voice of Oithona * is not
heard amidst the noise of the streams of DuvTanna.
" Whither art thou gone in thy beauty, dark-haired
daughter of Nuath ? Lathmon is in the field of the
valiant, but thou didst promise to remain in the
hall ; thou didst promise to remain in the hall till
the son of Morni retimied. Till he returned fi-om
Stiimion, to the maid of his love ! The tear was
on thy cheek at his depai'ture ; the sigh rose in
secret in thy breast. But thou dost not come
for with songs, with the lightly trembling sound of
the harp !"

Such were the words of Gaul, when he came to
Dunlathmon's towers. The gates were open and
dark. The winds Avere blustering in the hall.
The trees strewed the threshold with leaves ; the
umrmur of night was abroad. Sad and silent, at a

* Oi-thona, the

84 OITHONA.

le acquainted with the fate of Oithona.

rock, the son of Momi sat : His soul trembled for
the maid ; but he knew not whether to turn his
course ! The son * of Leth stood at a distance,
and heard the winds in his bushy hair. But he
did not raise his voice, for he saw the sorrow of
Gaul!

Sleep descended on the chiefs. The visions of
night arose. Oithona stood, in a dream, before the
eyes of Morni's son. Her hair was loose and dis-
ordered : Her lovely eye rolled deep in tears.
Blood stained her snowy arm. The robe half hid
the wound of her breast. She stood over the chief,
and her voice was feebly heard. " Sleeps the son
of Momi, he that was lovely in the eyes of Oithona ?
Sleeps Gaul at the distant rock, and the daughter
of Nuath low ! The sea rolls round the dark isle
of Tromathon. I sit in my tears in the cave ! Nor
do I sit alone, O Gaul ! the dark chief of Cu-
thal is there. He is there in the rage of his love.
What can Oithona do ?"

A rougher ])last nished through the oak. The
dream of night departed. Gaul took his aspen
spear. He stood in the rage of his soul. Often
did his eyes turn to the east. He accused the
lagging light. At length the morning came forth.
The hero lifted up the sail. The winds came rust-
ling from the hill ; he bounded on the waves of the
deep. On the third day arose Tromathonf , like

* Morlo, the son of Leth, is one of Fingal's most famous heroes. He
and three other men attended Gaul on his expedition to Tromathon.
t Trom-thon, heavy or deep-sounding wave.

OITHONA. 85

Oithona is inconsolable for the loss of her honour.

a blue shield in the midst of the sea. The white
wave roared against its rocks ; sad Oithona sat on
the coast ! She looked on the rolUng waters, and
her tears came dowm. But when she saw Gaul in
his arms, she started, and turned her eyes away.
Her lovely cheek is bent and red ; her white arm
trembles by her side. Thrice she strove to fly from
his presence ; tluice her steps failed her as she went !

" Daughter of Nuath," said the hero, " why dost
thou fly from Gaul ? Do my eyes send forth
the flame of death ? Darkens hatred in my soul ?
Thou art to me a beam of the east, rising in a land
miknown. But thou coverest thy face with sadness
daughter of car-borne Nuath! Is the foe of Oithona
near? My soul burns to meet him in the fight.
Tlie sword trembles by the side of Gaul, and longs
to glitter in his hand. Speak, daughter of Nuath !
dost thou not behold my teare ?"

" Young chief of Sti-umon," replied the maid,
*' why comest thou over the dark-blue wave, to
Nuath's mournful daughter ? Why did I not pass
away in secret, like the flower of the rock, that
lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered
leaves on the blast ? ^\^ly didst thou come, O
Gaul ! to hear my departing sigh ? I vanish in my
youth ; my name shall not be heard. Or it will be
heard with grief; the tears of Nuath must fall.
Thou wilt be sad, son of Momi ! for the departed
fame of Oithona. But she shall sleep in the nar-
row tomb, far from the voice of the mourner. Wliy

S6 OITHONA.

Oithona recounts the story of her misfortunes.

didst thou come, chief of Stnimon ! to the sea-heat
rocks of Tromatlion ?"

" I came to meet thy foes, dauo;hter of car-home
Nuath ! The death of Cuthal's chief darkens hefore
me ; or Morni's son shall fall ! Oithona ! when Gaul
is low, raise my tomh on that oozy rock. When
the dark -bounding ship shall pass, call the sons of
the sea ! Call them, and give this sword, to bear
it hence to Morni's hall. The gray-haired chief
will then cease to look towards the desart for the
return of his son !"

" Shall the daughter of Nuath live ! " she replied
Avith a bursting sigh. " Shall I live in Tromathon,
and the son of Morni low ? My heart is not of
that rock ; nor my soul careless as that sea ; which
lifts its blue waves to every Avind, and rolls beneath
the storm ! The blast which shall lay thee low,
shall spread the branches of Oithona on the earth.
We shall wither together, son of car-home Momi!
The narrow house is pleasant to me, and the gray
stone of the dead : For never more Avill I leave thy
rocks, O sea-surrounded Tromathon ! Night *
came on wath her clouds, after the departure of
Lathmon, when he went to the wars of his fathers,
to the moss-covered rock of Duthormoth. Night
came on. I sat in tht; hall, at the beam of the oak !
The wind was abroad in the trees. I heard the
sound of arms. Joy rose in my face. I thought

* Oithona relates how slie was carried away by Dunrommath.

OITHONA, 87

Gaul prepare^ to attack the ravisher of Oithona.

of thy return. It was tlie chief of Cuthal, the red-
haired strength of Dunrommath. His eyes rolled
in fire : The blood of my people was on his sword.
They who defended Oithona fell by the gloomy
chief! What could I do? My arm was weak.
I could not lift the spear. He took me in my
grief, amidst my tears he raised the sail. He feared
the returning ' Lathmon, the brother of unhappy
Oithona! But behold he comes with his people I
The dark wave is divided before him ! Whither
-wait thou turn thy steps, son of Momi ? Many are
tlie warriors of thy foe !"

" My steps never turned from battle, " Gaul
said, and unsheathed his sword. " Shall I then
begin to fear, Oithona ! when thy foes are near ?
Go to thy cave, my love, till our battle cease on
the field. Son of Leth, bring the bows of our
fathers ! The sounding quiver of Momi ! Let
oiu- three warriors bend the yew. Ourselves will
lift the spear. They are an host on the rock ! Our
Bouls are strong in war !"

Oithona went to the cave. A troubled joy rose
on her mind, like the red path of lightning on a
stormy cloud ! Her soul A\as resolved ; the tear
was dried from her wildly looking eye. Dunrom
math slowly approached. He saw the son of Momi.
Contempt contracted his face, a smile is on his
dark brown cheek ; his red eye rolled, half-concealed
beneath his sliaggy brows ?

" Whence are the sons of the sea?" begun the
gloomy chief. " Have the winds driven you on

OITHONA.

Gaul strikes off the head of the

the rocks of Tromathon ? Or come you in search
of the white-handed maid ? The sons of the un-
happy, ye feeble men, come to the hand of
Dunrommath ! His eye spares not the weak ; he
dehghts in the blood of strangers. Oithona is a
beam of light, and the chief of Cuthal enjoys it in
secret ; wouldst thou come on its loveliness, like a
cloud, son of the feeble hand ! Thou mayest come,
but shalt thou retmn to the haUs of thy fathers ?"
*' Dost thou not know me, " said Gaul, " red-haired
chief of Cuthal? Thy feet were swift on the
heath, in the battle of car-borne Lathmon ; when
the sword of Momi's son pursued his host, in
Morven's woody land. Dunrommath ! thy words
are mighty, for thy warriors gather behind thee.
But do I fear them, son of pride ? I am not of
the race of the feeble ?"

Gaul advanced in his arms ; Dunrommath shrunk
behind his people. But the spear of Gaul pierced
the gloomy chief ; his sword lopped off his head, as
it bended in death. The son of Momi shook it
thrice by the lock ; the warriors of Dunrommath
fled. The arrows of Morven pursued them : Ten
fell on the mossy rocks. The rest lift the sounding
sail, and bound on the troubled deep. Gaul ad-
vanced towards the cave of Oithona. He beheld a
youth leaning on a rock. An anow had pierced
his side ; his eye rolled faintly beneath his helmet.
The soul of Momi's son was sad, he came and spoke
the words of peace.

" Can the hand of Gaul heal thee, youth of the

OITHONA. yO

Death of Oithona, who was wounded in the battle.

mournful brow ? 1 liavo searched for the herbs of
the mountains ; I have gathered them on the secret
banks of their streams. My liand has closed the
wound of the brave, their eyes have blessed the son
of Morni. Where dwelt thy fathers, wanior?
Were they of the sons of the mighty ? Sadness
shall come, like night, on thy native streams. Thou
art fallen in thy youth !"

" My fathers, " replied the stranger, " were of
the race of the mighty ; but they shall not be sad ;
for my fame is departed like morning mist. High
walls rise on the banks of Duvranna, and see their
mossy towers in the stream ; a rock ascends behind
them with its bending pines. Thou mayest behold
it far distant. There my brother dwells. He is
renowned in battle : Give him this glittering
helm."

The helmet fell from the hand of Gaul. It was
the wounded Oithona ! She had armed herself in
the cave, and came in search of death. Her heavy
eyes are half closed ; the blood pours from her
heaving side. " Son of Momi!" she said, " pre-
pare the narrow tomb. Sleep grows, like darkness,
on my soul. The eyes of Oithona are dim ! O
had I dwelt at Duvranna, in the bright beam of my
fame ! then had my years come on with joy ; the
virgins would then bless my steps. But I fall in
youth, son of Morni ! My father shall blush in his
hall !"

She fell pale on the rock of Tromathon. The
mournful warrior raised her tomb. He came to
H 2

90 OITHONA.

Morven ; he saw the darkness of his soul. Ossian
took the harp in the praise of Oithona. The
brightness of the face of Gaul returned. But his
sigh rose, at times, in the midst of his friends ; like
blasts that shake their unfrequented wings, after
the stormy winds are laid !

CROMA:

ARGUMENT.

Malvina, the daughter of Toscar, is overheard by Ossian la-
menting the death of Oscar, her lover, Ossian, to divert
her grief relates his own actions in an expedition which
he undertook, at FingaVs command, to aid Crothar, the
petty king of Croma, a country in Ireland, against Roth-
mar, who invaded his dominions. The story is delivered
down thus in tradition : — Crothar, king of Croma, being
blind with age, and 7tis son too young for the field. Roth-
mar, the chief of Tromlo, resolved to avail himself of tlie
opportunity offered of annexing the dominions of Crothar
to his own. He accordingly marched into the country
subject to Crothar, but which heheldofArth or Artho, who
was, at the time, supreme king of Ireland.
Crothar being, on account of his age and blindness, unfit for
action, sent for aid to Fingal, king of Scotland, who or-
dered his son, Ossian, to the relief of Crothar. But, before
his arrival, Favor-Gormo, the son of Crothar, attacking
Rothmar, was slain himself, and his forces totally defeated.
Ossian renewed the war, came to battle, killed Rothmar,
and routed his army. Croma being thus delivered of its
enemies, Ossian returned to Scotland.

C R O M A.

" It was the voice of my love ! seldom art thou
in the dreams of Malvina ! Open your airy halls,
O fathers of Toscar of shields : unfold the gates of
your clouds : the steps of Malvina are near. I
have heard a voice in my dream. I feel the flut-
tering of my soul. Why didst thou come, O blast !
.from the dark-rolhng face of the lake ? Thy
rustling wing was in the tree ; the dream of Mal-
vina fled. But she beheld her love, when his robe
of mist flew on the wind. A sunbeam was on his
skirts, they glittered like the gold of the stranger.
It was the voice of my love ! seldom comes he to
my dreams.

" But thou dwellest in the soul of Malvina, son
of mighty Ossian ! My sighs arise Avith the beam
of the east ; my tears descend with the drops of
night. I was a lovely tree, in thy presence, Oscar,
with all my branches round me ; but thy death
came like a blast from the desart, and laid my
green head low. The spring returned with its
showers ; no leaf of mine arose ! The virgins saw
me silent in the hall ; they touched the harp of
joy. The tear was on the cheek of Malvina : the
virgins beheld me in my grief. Why art thou sad?
they said ; thou first of the maids of Lutha ! Was

94 €ROMA.

o the aid of Crothar, an Irish Prince.

he lovely as the beam of the morning, and stately
in thy sight ?"

Pleasant is thy song in Ossian's ear, daughter
of streamy Lutha ! Thou hast heard the music of
departed bards in the (beam of thy rest, when
sleep fell on thine eyes, at the murmur of Moruth.*
When thou didst return from the chase, in the day
of the sun, thou hast heard the music of bards, and
thy song is lovely ! — It is lovely, O Malvina ! but
it melts the soul. There is a joy in giief, when
peace dwells in the breast of the sad. — But sonow
wastes the mournful, O daughter of Toscar ! and
their days are few : they faU away, like the flower
on which the sun hath looked in his strength, after
the mildew has passed over it, when its head is
heavy with the drops of night. Attend to the
tale of Ossian, O maid ! He remembers the days
of his youth.

The king commanded : I raised my sails, and
rushed into the bay of Croma ; into Croma's
sounding bay in lovely Inisfail.f High on ^ the
coast arose the towers of Crothar, king of spears !
Crothar, renowned in the battles of his youth ; but
age dwelt then around the chief. Rothmar had
raised the sword against the hero ; and the wrath
of Fingal burned. He sent Ossian to meet Roth-
mar in war, for the chief of Croma was the friend

Mor'ruth, great stream.
t Ini^aU, one of the ancient names of Ireland.

CROMA.

95

Crothar recounts the history of his misfortunes.

of liis youth. I sent the bard before me with songs.
I came into the hall of Crothar. There sat the
chief amidst the ai-ms of his fathers, but his eyes
had failed. His ^ay locks waved around a staff,
on which the Avamor leaned. He hummed the
souo- of other times, when the sound of our arms
reached his ears. Crothar rose, stretched his aged
hand, and blessed the son of Fingal.

" Ossian !" said the hero, " the strength of Cro-
thar's arm has failed. O could I lift the sword,
as on the day that Fingal fought at Strutha ! He
was the first of men ! but Crothar had also his
fame. The king of Morven praised me ; he placed
on my arm the bossy shield of Calthar, whom the
king had slain in his wars. Dost thou not behold
it on the wall ? for Crothar's eyes have failed. Is
thy strength like thy father's, Ossian ? let the aged
feel thine arm."

I gave my arm to the king ; he felt it with his
aged hands. The sigh rose in his breast, and his
tears came down. " Thou art strong, my son,"
he said, " but not like the king of Morven ! But
who is like the hero, among the mighty, in war !
Let the feast of my hall be spread; and let my
bards exalt the song. Great is he that is within
my walls, ye sons of echoing Croma !" The feast
is spread ; the harp is heard; and joy is in the hall.
But it was joy covering a sigh, that darkly dwelt
in every breast. It was hke the faint beam of the
moon, spread on a cloud, in heaven. At length
the music ceased, and the aged king of Croma

96 CROMA.

Fovar-gormo, the son of Crothar, is slain by Rothmar.

spoke ; he spoke without a tear, but sorrow swelled
in the midst of his voice.

" Son of Fingal! behold'st thou not the darkness
of Crothar's joy? My soul was not sad at the
feast, when my people Uved before me. I rejoiced
in the presence of strangers, when my son shone
in the hall. But, Ossian, he is a beam that is
departed. He left no streak of light behind. He
is fallen, son of Fingal ! in the wars of his father.
Rothmar, the chief of grassy Tromlo, heard that
these eyes had failed ; he heard that my arms were
fixed in the hall, and the pride of his soul arose !
He came towards Croma; my people fell before
him. I took my arms in my \\Tath, but what
could sightless Crothar do ? My steps were une-
qual ; my grief was great. I ^^ashed for the days
that were past. Days! wherein I fought; and won
in the field of blood. My son returned from the
chace ; the fair-haired Fovar-gormo.* He had not
lifted his sword in battle, for his arm was young.
But the soul of the youth was gi-eat : the fire of
valour bm-nt in his eyes. He saw the disordered
steps of his father, and his sighs arose. ' King of
Croma,' he said, ' is it because thou hast no son ;
is it for the weakness of Fovar-gormo's arm that
thy sighs arise ? I begin, my father, to feel my
strength ; I have drawn the sword of my youth,
and I have bent the bow. Let me meet this
Rothmar, with the sons of Croma : let me meet

* Foabhar-gorm, the blue point of steel.

CROMA. 97

Rothmai is killed bjr Ossian.

him, O my father! I feel my buniing soiil! "And
thou shalt meet him, I said, son of the sightless
Crothar! But let others advance before thee, that
I may liear the tread of thy feet at thy return ; for
my eyes behold thee not, fair-haired Fovar-Gormo!
He went ; he met the foe ; he fell. Rothmar
advances to Croma. He who slew my son is near
with all his pointed spears."

This is no time to fill the shell, I replied, and
took my spear ! My people saw the fire of my
eyes; they all rose ai-ound. Through night we
strode along the lieath. Gray momhig rose in the
east. A green narrow vale appeared before us ;
nor wanting was its winding stream. The dark
host of Rothmar are on its banks, with all their
glittering arms. We fought along the vale. They
fled. Rothmar sunk beneath my sword. Day
had not descended in the west, when I brought his
arms to Crothar. The aged hero felt them Avith
his hands; and joy brightened over all his thoughts.

The people gathered to the hall. The shells of
the feast are heard. Ten hai-ps are strung ; five
bards advance, and sing, by tui-ns,* the praise of

* Those extempore compositions were in great repute among suc-
ceeding bards. The pieces extant of that kind show more of the good
ear, than of the poetical genius of their authors. The translator has
only met with one poem of this sort, which he thinks worthy of being
preserved. It is a thousand years later than Ossian, but the author
seems to have observed his manner, and adopted some of his expres.
sions. The story of it is this :— Five bards, passing the night in the
house of a chief, who was a poet himself, went severally to make their

98 CROMA.

The bards raise the song in houour of Ossian.

Ossian ; they poured forth their bumino: souls, and
the string answered to their A'oiee. The joy of
Croma was great ; for peace returned to the land.

observations on, and returned with an extempore description of, night.
The night happened to be one in October, as appears from the poem,
and in the north of Scotland ; it has all that variety which the bards
ascribe to it in their descriptions.

First Bard. Night is dull and dark. The clouds rest on the hills.
No star with green trembling beam ; no moon looks from the sky. I
hear the blast in the wood ; but I hear it distant far. The stream of
the valley murmurs : but its murmur is sullen and sad. From the tree
at the grave of the dead, the long-howling owl is heard. I see a dim
form on the plain ! It is a ghost! It fades, it flies. Some funeral shall
pass this way ; the meteor marks the path.

The distant dog is howling from the hut of the hill. The stag liesoQ
the mountain moss ; the hind is at his side. She hears the wind in his
branchy horns. She starts, but lies again.

The roe is in the cleft of the rock , the heathcock'^s head is beneath
his wing. No beast, no bird is abroad, but the owl and the howling
fox. She on a leafless tree ; he in a cloud on the hill.

Dark, panting, trembling, sad, the traveller has lost his way.
Through shrubs, through thorns, he goes, along the gurgUng rill. He
fears the rock and the fen. He fears the ghost of night. The old tree
groans to the blast ; the falling branch resounds. The wind drives the
withered burs, clung together, along the grass. It is the light tread of
a ghost ! He trembles amidst the night.

Dark, dusky, howling is night, cloudy, windy, and full of ghosts !
the dead are abroad ! my friends, receive me from the night.

Second Bard. The wind is up. The shower descends. The spi-
rit of the mountain shrieks. Woods fall from high. Windows flap.
The growing river roars. The traveller attempts the ford. Hark ! that
shriek ! he dies ! The storm drives the horse from the hill, the goat,
the lowing cow. They tremble, as drives the shower, beside the
mouldering bank.

The hunter starts from sleep, in his lonely hut ; he wakes the fire de-
cayed. His wet dogs smoke around him. He fills the chinks with
heath. Loud roar two mountain streams, which meet beside his booth.

The song of the bards continued.

The night came on with silence ; the morning re-
turned witli joy. No foe came in darkness, witli
his glittering spear. The joy of Croma was great;
for tlie gloomy llothmai- had fallen !

Sad on the side of a hill the wandering shepherd sits. The tree re-
sounds above him. The stream roars down the rock. He waits for the
rising moon to guide him to his home.

Ghosts ride on the storm to-night. Sweet is their voice between the
squalls of wind. Their songs are of other worlds.

The rain is past. The dry wind blows. Streams roar, and windows
flap. Cold drops fall from the roof. 1 see the starry sky. But the
shower gathers again. The west is gloomy and dark. Night is stormy
and dismal : receive me, my friends, from night.

Third Bard. The wind still sounds between the hills: and whis-
tles through the grass of the rock. The firs fall from their place. The
turfy hut is torn. The clouds, divided, fly over the sky, and show the
burning stars. The meteor, token of death ! flies sparkling through
the gloom. It rests on the hill, I see the withered fern, the dark- browed
rock, the fallen oak. Who is that in his shroud, beneath the tree, by
the stream ?

The waves dark tumble on the lake, and lash its rocky sides. The
boat is brimful in the cove; the oars on the rocking tide. A maid sits
sad before the rock, and eyes the rolling stream. Her lover promised
to come. She saw his boat, when yet it was light, on the lake. Is this
his broken boat on the shore ? Are these his groans on the wind ?

Hark ! the hall rattles around. The flaky snow descends. The tops
of the hills are white. The stormy winds abate. Various is the night
and cold : receive me, my friends, from night.

Fourth Bard. Night is calm and fair; blue, starry, settled is
night The winds, with the clouds, are gone. They sink behind the
hill. The moon is upon the mountain. Trees glitter : streams shine
on the rock. Bright rolls the settled lake; bright the stream of the
vale,

I see the trees overturned ; the shocks of corn on the plain. The
wakeful hind rebuilds the shocks, and whistles on the distant field.
Calm, settled, fait is night t Who comes from the place of the dead i

100 CROMA.

Ostian raises the song in honour of Forar^gornio.

I raised my voice for Fovar-Gormo, when they
laid the cliief in earth. The aged Crothar was
there, but liis sigh was not heard. He searched

That fonn with the robe of snow ; white arms, and dark-brown hair !
It is the daughter of the chief of the people : she that lately fell ! Come,
let us view thee, O maid ! thou that hast been the delight of heroes I
The blast drives the phantom away ; white, without form, it ascends
thehiU.

The breezes drive the blue mist slowly over the narrow vale. It
rises on the hill, and joins its head to heaven. Night is settled, calm,
blue, starry, bright with the moon. Receive me not, my friends, for
lovely is the night.

FIFTH Bard. Night is calm, but dreary. The moon is in a cloud
in the west. Slow moves that pale beam along the shaded hill. The
distant wave is heard. The torrent murmurs on the rock. The cock
is heard from the booth. More than half the night is past. The
housewife, groping in the gloom, rekindles the settled fire. The hunter
thinks that day approaches, and calls his bounding dogs. He ascends
the hill, and whistles on his way. A blast removes the cloud. He
sees the starry plough of the north. Much of the night is to pass.
He nods by the mossy rock.

Hark ! the whirlwind is in the wood ! A low murmur in the vale.
It is the mighty army of the dead ! returning from the air.

The moon rests behind the hill. The beam is still on that lofty rock.
Long are the shadows of the trees. Now it is dark over all. Night is
dreary, silent, and dark : receive me, my friends, from night.

The Chief. Let clouds rest on the hills : spirits fly, and travellers
fear. Let the winds' of the wood arise ; the sounding storms descend.
Roar streams, and windows flap, and green-winged meteors fly ! rise
the pale moon from behind her hills, or enclose her head in clouds I
night is alike to me ; blue, stormy, or gloomy the sky. Night flies b^
fore the beam, when it is poured on the hill. The young day retiums
from his clouds, but we return no more.

Where are our chiefs of old ? Where our kings of mighty name ?
The fields of their battles are silent. Scarce their mossy tombs remain .
We shall also be forgot. This lofty house shall fall. Our sons shall

CROMA. 101

Crothar laments the helpless condition of the aged.

for the wound of his son, and found it in his
breast. Joy rose in the face of the aged. He
came and spoke to Ossian. " King- of spears !" he
said, " my son has not fallen without his fame.
The young warrior did not fly ; but met death, as
he went forward in his strengtli. Happy are they
who die in youth, when their renown is heard !
The feeble will not behold him in the hall; or smile
at their trembling hands. Their memory shall be
honoured in song; the young tear of the virgin will
fall. But the aged wither away, by degrees ; the
fame of their youth, while yet they live, is all for-
got. They fall in secret. The sigh of their son
is not heard. Joy is around their tomb ; the stone
of their fame is placed without a tear. Happy are
they who die in youth, when their renown is
around them !"

not behold the ruins in grass. They shall ask of the aged, " Where
stood the walls of our fathers ?"

Raise the song, and strike the harp ; send round the sh( lis of joy-
Suspend a hundred tapers on high. Youths and maids begin the dance.
Let some gray bard be near me to tell the deeds of other times ; of
kings renowned in cur land ; of chiefs we behold no more. Thus let
the night pass, until morning shall appear in our halls. Then let the
bow be at hand, the dogs, the youths of thechacc. We shall ascend
the hill with day ; and awake the deer.

OINA-MORUL:

ARGUMENT.

After an address to Malvhia, the duvghter of Toscar, Os-
sian proceeds to relate ?tis own expedition to Fuarfed^ an
island of Scandinavia. Mal-orchol^ king of Fuarfcd
being hard pressed in war, by Ton-thormod, chief of Sar-
dronlo, (-who had demanded, in vain, the daughter of
Mal-orchol in marriage, ) Fingal sent Ossian to his aid.
Ossian, on the day after his arrival, came to battle "with
Ton-thormod, and took him prisoner. Mal-orchol offers
his daughter, Oina-morul, to Ossian, but he, discovering
her passion for Ton-thormod, generously surrenders her
to her lover, and brings about a reconciliation between the
two kings.

OINA-MORUL.

As flies the unconstant sun over Larmon's
glassy hill ; so pass the tales of old along my soul,
by night ! When bards are removed to their place ;
when harps are hung in Selma's hall ; then comes a
voice to Ossian, and awakes his soul ! It is the
voice of years that are gone ! they roll before me,
T\dth all their deeds ! I seize the tales, as they
pass, and pour them forth in song. Nor a troubled
stream is the song of the king, it is like the rising
of music from Lutha of the strings. Lutha of
many strings, not silent are thy streamy rocks,
when the white hands of Malvina move upon the
harjj ! Light of the shadoAvy thoughts that fly
across my soul, daughter of Toscar of helmets, will
thou not hear the song ! We call back, maid of
Lutha, the years that have rolled away !

It was in the days of the king, while yet my
locks were young, that I marked Concathlin *, on

* Con-cathlin, mild beam of the wave. What star was so called of
old is not easily ascertained. Some now distinj;uish the pole-star by
that name. A song, which is still in repute among the seafaring part
of the Highlanders, alludes to this passage of Ossian. The author
commends the knowledge of Ossian in sea afiairs, a merit which, per-
haps, few of us modems will allow him, or any in the age in which he
lived. One thing is certain, that the Caledonians often made their
way through the dangerous and tempestuous seas of Scandinavia ; which

106 OINA-MORUL.

Ossian Is sent by Fingal to the a;

higli, from ocean's nightly wave. My course was
towards tlie isle of Fuarfed, woody-dweller of seas!
?"ingal liad sent me to the aid of Mal-orchol, king
of Fuarfed wild ; for war was around liim, and our
fathers had met, at the feast.

In Col-coiled I hound my sails ; I sent my sword
to Mal-orchol of shells. He knew the signal of
Alhion, and his joy arose ! He came fiom his own
higli liall, and seized my hand in grief. " W'liy
comes the race of heroes to a fallen king ? Ton-
thormod of many spears is the chief of wavy
Sar-dronlo. He saw, and loved my daughter,
white-hosomed Oina-morul. He sought ; I denied
the maid ; for our fathers had heen foes. He came,
with hattle to Fuarfed ; my people are rolled away.
"Why comes the race of lieroes to a fallen king?"

I come not, I said, to look like a boy on the
strife. Fingal remembers Mal-orchol, and his hall
for strangers. From his waves, the warrior de-
scended, on thy woody isle. Thou wert no cloud
before him. Thy feast was spread witli songs.
For this my sword shall rise ; and thy foes perhaps
may fail. Our friends are not forgot in their dan-
ger, though distant are our land.

" Descendant of the daring Trenmor, thy words
are like the voice of Cruth-loda, when he speaks,

is more, perhaps, than the more polished nations, subsisting in those
times, dared to venture. In estimating the degree of knowledge of
arts among tlie ancients, we ought not to bring it into comparison with
the improvements of modern times. Our advantages over them pro-
ceed more from accident than any merit of ours.

OINA-MORUL. 107

Mal-orchol gratefully accepts the assistance of Oesian.

from his parting cloud, strong dweller of the sky !
Many have rejoiced at my feast ; hut tliey all have
forgot Mal-orchol. I have looked towards all the
winds ; hut no white sails were seen. But steel *
resounds in my hall, and not the joyful shells.
Come to my dwelling, race of heroes ! dark-skirted
night is near. Hear the voice of songs, from the
maid of Fuarfed wild."

We went. On the harp arose the white hands
of Oina-morid. She waked her own sad tale,
from every tremhling string. I stood in silence ;
for bright in her locks was the daughter of many
isles ! Her eyes Avere two stars, looking forward
through a rushing shower. The mariner marks
them on high, and blesses the lovely beams. With
morning we rushed to battle, to Tormul's resound-
ing stream ; the foe moved to the sound of Ton-

» There is a severe satire couched in this expression, against the guest
of Mal-orchol. Had his feast been still spread, had jny continued in hit
hall, his former parasites would not have failed to resort to him. But
as the time of festivity was past, their attendance also ceased. The
sentiments of a certain old bard are agreeable to this observation. He
poetically compares a great man to a fire kindled in a desart place.
" Those that pay court to him, says he, are rolling large around him'
like the smoke about the fire This smoke gives the fire a great ap.
pearance at a distance, but it is but an emiity vapour itself, and varying
its form at every breeze. When the trunk which fed the fire is con-
sumed, the smoke departs on all the winds. So the flatterers forsake
their chief, when his power declines " I have chosen to give a para,
phrase, rather than a translation, of this passage, as the original is ver-
bose and frothy, notwithstanding the sentimental merit of the author.
He was one of the less ancient bards, and their compoiitions are not
nervous enough to bear a literal translation.

108 OINA-MORUL.

The song of Oina-morul.

thormod's bossy shield. From wing to wing the
strife was mixed. I met Tonthormod in fight.
Wide flew his broken steel. I seized the king in
war. I gave his hand, bound fast with thongs, to
Mal-orchol, the giver of shells. Joy rose at the
feast of Fuarfed, for the foe had failed. Tonthor-
mod turned his face away, from Oina-morul of
isles I

Son of Fingal, begun Mal-orchol, not forgot
shalt thou pass from me. A light shall dwell in
thy ship, Oina-morul of slow rolling eyes. She
shall kindle gladness along thy mighty soul. Nor
unheeded shall the maid move in Selma, through
the dwelling of kings !

In the hall I lay in night. Mine eyes were half-
closed in sleep. Soft music came to mine ear : it
was like the rising breeze, that whirls, at first, the
thistle's beard; then flies, dark-shadowy, over the
grass. It was the maid of Fuarfed wild ! she raised
the nightly song; she knew that my soul was a
stream that flowed at pleasant sounds. " Who
looks, " she said, " from his rock, on oceans closing
mist ? His long locks, like the raven's wing, are
wandering on the blast. Stately are his steps in
grief ! The tears are in his eyes ! His manly
breast is heaving over his bursting soul ! Retire,
I am distant far; a wanderer in lands unknown.
Though the race of kings are around me, yet my
soul is dark. Why have our fathers been foes,
Ton-thormod love of maids !"

*' Soft voice of the streamy isle, " I said, " why

OINA.MORUL. 109

Ouian generously yields the beautiful Oina-raorul to her lover.

" dost thou mourn by nitilit? The race of daring
Trennior are not the dark in soul. Thou shalt not
wander, by streams unknown, blue-eyed Oina-
morul! Within this bosom is a voice; it comes not
to other ears : it bids Ossian hear the hapless, in
their hour of woe. Retire, soft singer by night;
Ton-thormod shall not mourn on his rock!"

With morning I loosed the king. I gave the
long-haired maid. Mal-orchol heard my words, in
the midst of his echoing halls. " King of Fuaifed
wild, why should Ton-thormod mom-n? He is of
the rac« of heroes, and a flame in war. Your fa-
thers have been foes, but now their dim ghosts
rejoice in death. They stretch their hands of mist
to the same shell in Loda< Forget their rage, ye
warriors, it was the cloud of other years."

Such were the deeds of Ossian, while yet his
locks were young : though loveliness, with a robe
of beams, clothed the daughter of many isles. We
call back, maid of Lutha, the years that have rolled
away i

COLN A-DONA:

ARGUMENT.

Fingal dispatches Osstan and Toscar^ t?ie son of Conloch, and
father ofMalvhia, to raise a stone on the hanks of the stream
of Crona, to perpetuate the memory of a victory which he
had obtained in that place. When they were employed in
that work, Car-ul, a neighbouring chief invited them to
a feast. They went ; and Toscarfell desperately in love
with Colna-dona, the daughter of Car-ul. Colna-donahe-
cume no less enamoured of Toscar. An incident, at a hunt-
ing party, brings their loves to a Imppy issue.

COLNA-DONA.

* CoL-AMON of troubled streams, dark wanderer
of distant vales, I behold thy course, between trees,
near Car-ul's echoing halls ! There dwelt bright
Colna-dona, the daughter of the king. Her eyes
were rolling stars ; her arms were white as the foam
of streams. Her breast rose slowly to sight, like
ocean's heaving Avave. Her soul was a stream of
light. Who, among the maids, was like the love
of heroes ?

Beneath the voice of the king we moved to
Crona f of the streams, Toscar, of grassy Lutha,

• Colna-dona signifies the love of heroes. Col-amon, narrow river,
Car-ul, dark-eyed. Col-amon, the residence of Car-ul, was in the
neighbourhood of Agricola's wall, towards the south. Car-ul seems
to have been of the race of those Britons who are distinguished by the
name of Maiata;, by the writers of Rome. Maiat« is derivedTrom two
Gaelic words, Moi, a plain, and Aitich, inhabitants : so that the signi-
fication of Maiatse is, the inhabitants of the plain country; a name given
to the Britons, who were settled in the Lowlands, in contradistinction
to the Caledonians, (i. e. Cael Don, fAe Gauls qfthe hills,) who were
possessed of the more mountainous division of North Britain.

* Crona, murmuring, was the name of a small stream, which dis-
charged itself in the river Carron. It is often mentioned by Ossian,
and the scenes of many of his poems are on its banks. The enemies,
whom Fingal defeated here, are not mentioned. They were, probably,
the provincial Britons. That tract of country between the firths of
Forth and Clyde, has been, through all antiquity, famous for battlei

K 2

114 COLNA-DONA.

Ossian'g Address on rearing the s<

and Ossian, young in fields. Three bards attended
with songs. Three bossy shields were borne before
us : for we were to rear the stone, in memory of
the past. By Crona's mossy course, Fingal had
scattered his foes : he had rolled away the strangers,
like a troubled sea. We came to the place of
renown : from the mountains descended night. I
tore an oak fi-om its hill, and raised a flame on
high. I bade my fathers to look down from the
clouds of their hall ; for, at the fame of their race,
they brighten in the wind.

I took a stone from the stream, amidst the song
of bards. The blood of Fingal's foes hung curdled
in its ooze. Beneath, I placed, at intervals, three
bosses from the shields of foes, as rose or fell the
sound of UUin's nightly song. Toscar laid a dag-
ger in earth, a mail of sounding steel. We raised
the mould around the stone, and bade it speak to
other years.

Oozy daughter of streams, that now art reared
on high, speak to the feeble, O stone, after Selma's
race have failed ! Prone, from the stormy night,
the traveller shall lay him by thy side : thy whis-
tling moss shall sound in his dreams : the years
that are past shall return. Battles rise before him,
blue-shielded kings descend to Avar ; the darkened
moon looks from heaven, on the troubled field.

and rencounters between the difTerent nations, who were possessed of
North and South Britain. Stirling, a town situated there, derives its
name from that very circumstance. It i a corruption of the Gaelic
name Strila, i.e. the hill or rock qf contention.

COLNA.DONA. 115

Car-ul's address to Ossian and Toscar.

He shall burst, with morning, from dreams, and
see the tombs of waniors round. He shall ask
about the stone, and the aged shall reply, " This
gray stone was raised by Ossian, a chief of other
years !"

* From Col-amon came a bard, from Car-ul, the
friend of strangers. He bade us to the feast of
kings, to the dwelling of bright Colna-dona. We
went to the hall of harps. There Car-ul brightened
between his aged locks, when he beheld the eons
of his friends, like two young branches before him.

" Sons of the mighty," he said, " ye bring back
the days of old, when first I descended from waves,
on Selma's streamy vale ! I pursued Duthmocar-
glos, dweller of ocean's wind. Our fathers had
been foes, we met by Clutha's winding waters.
He fled along the sea, and my sails were spread
behind him. Night deceived me, on the deep. I

* The manners of the Britons and Caledonians were so similar, in
the days of Ossian, that there can be no doubt that they were originally
the same people, and descended from those Gauls who first possessed
themselves of South Britain, and gradually migrated to the north.
This hypothesis is more rational than the idle fables of ill-informed
senachies, who bring the Caledonians from distant countries. The bare
opinion of Tacitus, (which, by-the-bye, was only founded on asimilarity
of the personal figure of the Caledonians to the Germans of his own
time) though it has staggered some learned men, is not sufiicient to
make us believe that the ancient inhabitants of North Britain were a
German colony. A discussion on a point like this, might be curious,
but could never be satisfactory. Periods so distant are so involved in
obscurity, that nothing certain can be now advanced concerning them.
The light which the Roman writers hold forth is too feeble to guide u»
to the truth, through the darkness which has surrounded it.

116 COLNA-DONA.

Ossian and Toscwr go, in the morning, to the chase.

came to the dwelling of kings, to Selma of high-
bosomed maids. Fingal came forth with his bards,
and Conloch, arm of death. I feasted three days
in the hall, and saw the blue eyes of Erin, Ros-crana,
daughter of heroes, light of Cormac's race. Nor
forgot did my steps depart : the kings gave their
shields to Car-ul: they hang, on high, in Col-amon,
in memory of the past. Sons of the daring kings,
ye bring back the days of old !"

Car-ul kindled the oak of feasts. He took two
bosses from our shields. He laid them in earth,
beneath a stone, to speak to the hero's race.
" When battle," said the king, " shall roar, and
our sons are to meet in wrath, my race shall look,
perhaps, on this stone, when they prepare the spear.
Have not our fathers met in peace? they will say,
and lay aside the shield."

Night came down. In her long locks moved
the daughter of Car-ul. Mixed with the harp arose
the voice of white-armed Colna-dona. Toscar
darkened in his place, before the love of lieroes.
She came on his troubled soul, like a beam to the
dark-heaving ocean ; when it bursts from a cloud,
and brightens the foamy side of a wave.*

With morning we waked the woods ; and hung
forward on the path of the roes. They fell by their

* Here an episode is entirely lost ; or, at least, is handed down so im-
perfectly, that it does not deserve a place in the jwem.

COLNA.DONA. 117

Colna-dona discovers her attachment to ToKar.

wonted streams. We returned through Crona's
vale. From the wood a youth came forward, with
a shield and pointless spear. " Whence," said
Toscar of Lutha, " is the flying; beam ? Dwells
there peace at Col-amon, round bright Colna-dona
of harps ?"

" By Col-amon of streams," said the youth,
" bright Colna-dona dwelt. She dwelt ; but her
course is now in the desarts, with the son of the
king ; he that seized, with love, her soul as it wan-
dered through the hall." " Stranger of tales," said
Toscar, " hast thou marked the wanior's course ?
He must fall : give thou that bossy shield !" In
wrath he took the shield. Fair behind it rose the
breasts of a maid, white as the bosom of a swan,
rising graceful on swift-rolling waves. It was
Colna-dona of harps, the daughter of the king I
Her blue eyes had rolled on Toscar, and her love
arose !

CALTHON AND COLMAL ;

9i poem.

ARGUMENT.

This piece, as many mare of Ossiari's compositions, is ad-
dressed to one of the first Christian missionaries. The
story of the poem is handed down, by tradition, thus : In
the country of the Britons, between the walls, two chiefs
lived in the days of Fingal — Dunthalmo, lord of Teutha,
supposed to be the Tweed, and Rathmor, who dwelt at
Clutha, well known to be the river Clyde. Rathmor was
not more renowned for his generosity and hospitality, than
Dunthalmo was infamous for his cruelty and ambition.
Dunthalmo, through envy, or on account of some private
feuds which subsisted between the families, murdered Rath-
mor at a feast : but, being afterwards touched with re-
morse, he educated the two sons of Rathmor, Calthon and
Colmar, in his own hotisc. They growing up to viands
estate, dropped some hints that they intended to revenge
the death of their father ; upon which Dunthalmo shut
them up in two caves on the banks of Teutha, intendiiig to
take them off privately. Colmal, the daughter of Dun-
thalmo, who was secretly in love with Calthon, helped him
to make his escape from prison, and fled with him to Fin-
gal, disguised in the habit of a young warrior, and im-
plored his aid against Dunthalmo. Fingal sent Ossian
•with three hundred men to Colmar''s relief. Dunthalmo^
having previously murdered Colmar, came to a battle with
Ossian ; but he was killed by that hero, and his army to-
tally defeated.

Calthon married Colmal, his deliverer ; and Ossian return-
ed to Morven,

CALTHON AND COLMAL.

Pleasant is the voice of thy song, thou lonely
dweller of the rock ! It comes on the sound of the
stream, along the narrow vale. My soul awakes,

0 stranger ! in the midst of my hall. I stretch my
hand to the spear, as in the days of other years.

1 stretch my hand, but it is feeble ; and the sigh of
my bosom grows. Wilt thou not listen, son of the
rock, to the song of Ossian ? My soul is full of
other times ; the joy of my youth returns. Thus
the sun appeals in the west, after the steps of his
brightness have moved behind a storm ; the green
hills lift their dewy heads: the blue streams rejoice
in the vale. The aged hero comes forth on his
staft'; his gray hair glitters in the beam. Dost thou
not behold, son of the rock, a shield in Ossian's
hall ? it is marked with the strokes of battle ; and
the brightness of its bosses has failed. That shield
the gieat Dunthalmo bore, the chief of streamy
Teutha. Dunthalmo bore it in battle, before he
fell by Ossian's spear. Listen, son of the rock, to
the tale of other years !

Rathmor was a chief of Clutha. The feeble
dwelt in his hall. The gates of Rathmor were
never shut; his feast was always spread. The sons

VOL. I. L

122 CALTHON AND COLMAL.

Dunthalmo, after murdering their father, educates Calthon and Colmal.

of the stranger came. They blessed the generous
chief of Clutha. Bards raised the song, and
touched the harp : joy biightened on the face of
the sad ! Dunthalmo came, in his pride, and
rushed into the combat of Rathmor. The chief of
Clutha overcame : the rage of Dunthalmo rose.
He came, by night, with his warriors ; the mighty
Rathmor fell. He fell in his halls, where his feast
was often spread for strangers.

Colmar and Calthon were young, the sons of
car-borne Rathmor. They came, in the joy of
youth, into their father's hall. They behold him
in his blood ; their bursting tears descend. The
soul of Dunthalmo melted, when he saw the
children of youth. He brought them to Alteutha's *
walls ; they grew in the house of their foe. They
bent the bow in his presence ; and came forth to
his wars. They saw the fallen walls of their
fathers ; they saw the green thorn in the hall. Their
tears rushed forth in secret. At times, their faces
were sad. Dunthalmo beheld their grief: his
darkening soul designed their death. He closed
them in two caves, on the echoing banks of Teutha.
The sun did not come there with his beams ; nor
the moon of heaven by night. The sons of Rath-
mor remained in darkness, and foresaw their death.

The daughter of Dunthalmo wept in silence, the

» Al-teutha, or rather Baltcutha, the town of Tweed, the name of Dun.
thalmo's seat. It is observable, that all the names in this poem are de-
rived from the Gaelic language ; which is a proof that it was once the
universal language of the whole island.

CALTHON AND COLMAL. 123

The daughter ofCaltbon relieyes her lover, young Calthon.

fair-haired, blue-eyed Colmal.* Her eye had
rolled in secret on Calthon ; his loveliness swelled
in her soul. She trembled for her warrior; but
what could Colmal do ? Her arm could not lift
the spear ; nor was the sword formed for her side.
Her white breast never rose beneath a mail.
Neither was her eye the terror of heroes. What
canst thou do, O Colmal ! for the falling chief?
Her steps are unequal : her hair is loose : her eye
looks wildly through her tears. She came, by
night, to the hall.-}- She armed her lovely form in
steel ; the steel of a young warrior, who fell in the
first of his battles. She came to the cave of Cal-
thon, and loosed the thong from his hands.

" Arise, son of Rathmor," she said, " arise, the
night is dark ! Let us fly to the king of Selma, X
chief of fallen Clutha ! I am the son of Lamgal,
who dwelt in thy father's hall. I heard of thy
dark dwelling in the cave, and my soul arose.
Arise, son of Rathmor, arise, the night is dark !"
" Blest voice," replied the chief, " comest thou
from the clouds to Calthon ? The ghosts of his
fathers have often descended in his dreams, since

• Caol-mhal, a woman with small eye brows ; small eye brows were a
distinguishing part of beauty in Ossian's times, and he seldom fails to
give them to the fine women of his poems.

t That is, the hall where the arms taken from enemies were hung
up as trophies. Ossian is very careful to make his stories probable; for
he makes Colmal put on the arms of a youth killed in his first battle,
as more proper for a young woman, who cannot be iupposed strong
enough to carry the armour of a full-grown warrior.

+ Fingal.

124 CALTHON AND COLMAL.

Calthon and Coltnal fly for protection to Fingal.

the sun has retired from his eyes, and darkness has
dwelt around him. Or art thou the son of Lamga),
the chief I often saw in Clutha ? But shall I fly-
to Fingal, and Colmar my brother low? Will I
fly to Morven, and the hero closed in night? No:
give me that spear, son of Lamgal, Calthon will
defend his brother !"

" A thousand warriors, " replied the maid,
" stretch their spears round car-home Colmar.
What can Calthon do against a host so great ? Let
us fly to the king of Morven, he will come with
war. His arm is stretched forth to the unhappy ;
the lightning of his sword is round the weak.
Arise, thou son of Rathmor ; the shadows will fly
away. Anse, or thy steps may be seen, and thou
must fall in youth !"

The sighing hero rose ; his tears descend for
car-borne Colmar. He came with the maid to
Selma's hall ; but he knew not that it was Colmal.
The helmet covered her lovely face. Her bosom
heaved beneath the steel. Fingal returned from
the chase, and found the lovely strangers. They
were like two beams of light, in the midst of the
hall of shells. The king heard the tale of grief,
and turned his eyes around. A thousand heroes
half rose before him, claiming the war of Teutha.
I came with my spear from the hill ; the joy of
battle rose in my breast: for the king spoke to
Ossian, in the midst of a thousand chiefs.

" Son of my strength," began the king, " take
thou the spear of Fingal. Go to Teutha's iiishing

CALTHON AND COLMAL.

125

Ossian, with three hundred heroes, flies to the relief of Colmar.

Stream, and save the car-borne Colmar. Let thy
fame return before thee like a pleasant gale ; that
my soul may rejoice over my son, who renews the
renown of our fathers. Ossian ! be thou a storm
in war ; but mild when the foe is low ! It was
thus my fame arose, O my son ! Be thou like
Selma's chief. When the haughty come to my
halls, my eyes behold them not. But my arm is
stretched forth to the unhappy. My sword defends
the weak."

I rejoiced in the words of the king. I took my
rattling arms. Diaran * rose at my side, and
Dargo f king of spears. Three hundred youths

• Diaran, father of that Connal who was unfortunately killed by
Crimora, his mistress.

t Dargo, the son of Collath, is celebrated in other Poems, by Ossian .
He is said to have been killed by a boar at a hunting party. The la-
mentation of his mistress, or wife, Mingala, over his body, is extant;
but whether it is of Ossian's composition, I cannot determine. It is
generally ascribed to him, and has much of his manner ; but some tra-
ditions mention it as an imitation by some later bard. As it has some
poetical merit, I have subjoined it : —

The spouse of Dargo comes in tears : for Dargo was no more ! The
heroes sigh over Lartho's chief: and what shall sad Mingala do ? The
dark soul vanished like morning mist, before the king of spears : but
the generous glowed in his presence like the morning star.

Who was the fairest and most lovely ? Who but Collath's stately
son ? Who sat in the midst of the wise, but Dargo, of the mighty
deeds?

Thy hand touched the trembling harp : thy voice was soft as summer
winds. Ah me ! what shall the heroes say ? for Dargo fell before a
boar. Pale is the lovely cheek ; the look of which was firm in danger !
Why hast thou failed on our hills ? thou fairer than the beams of the
sun !

l2

126 CALTHON AND COLMAL.

Colmar is killed by the cruel Dunthalmo in sight of his friends-

followed our steps : the lovely strangers were at
my side. Dunthalmo heard the sound of our ap-
proach. He gathered the strength of Teutha. He
stood on a hill with his host. They were like
rocks broken with thunder, when their bent trees
are singed and bare, and the streams of their chinks
have failed. The stream of Teutha rolled in its
pride before the gloomy foe. I sent a bard to
Dunthalmo, to offer the combat on the plain ; but
he smiled in the darkness of his pride. His un-
settled host moved on the hill ; like the mountain
cloud, when the blast has entered its womb, and
scatters the curling gloom on every side.

They brought Colmar to Teutha's bank, bound
with a thousand thongs. The chief is sad, but
stately. His eye is on his friends ; for we
stood in our arms, whilst Teutha's waters rolled
between. Dunthalmo came with his spear, and
pierced the hero's side : He rolled on the bank in
his blood. We heard his broken sighs. Calthon
rushed into the stream : I bounded fonvard on my
spear. Teutha's race fell before us. Night came
rolling down. Dunthalmo rested on a rock amidst

The daughter of Adonfion was lovely in the eyes of the valiant; she
was lovely in their eyes, but she chose to be the spouse of Dargo.

But art thou alone, Mingala ! The night is coming with its clouds ;
where is the bed of thy repose ? Where but in the tomb of Dargo ?

Why dost thou lift the stone, O bard ! Why dost thou shut the
narrow house ? Mingala's eyes are heavy, bard ! She must sleep with
Dargo.

Last night I heard the song of joy in Lartho's lofty hall. But silence
dwells around my bed. Mingala rests with Dargo.

CALTHON AND COLMAL. 127

Colmar's ghost appears to Calthon in his sleep.

an aged wood. The rage of his bosom burned
against the car-borne Calthon. But Calthon stood
in his grief; he mourned the fallen Colmar ; Col-
mar slain in youth, before his fame arose !

I bade the song of woe to rise, to soothe the
mournful chief: but he stood behind a tree, and
often threw his spear on earth. The humid eye
of Colmal rolled near in a secret tear. She fore-
saw the fall of Dunthalmo, or of Clutha's warlike
chief. Now half the night had passed away.
Silence and darkness were on the field. Sleep
rested on the eyes of the heroes. Calthon's set-
tling soul was still. His eyes were half-closed ;
but the murmur of Teutha had not yet failed in his
ear. Pale, and showing his wounds, the ghost of
Colmar came : He bent his head over the hero,
and raised his feeble voice !

" Sleeps the son of Rathmor in his might, and
his brother low? Did we not rise to the chase
together ? Pursued we not the dark brown hinds ?
Colmar was not forgot till he fell ; till death had
blasted his youth. I lie pale beneath the rock of
Lona. O let Calthon rise ! The moniing comes
with its beams ; Dunthalmo will dishonour the
fallen." He passed away in his blast. The rising
Calthon saw the steps of his departure. He rushed
in the sound of his steel. Unhappy Colmal rose.
She followed her hero through night, and dragged
her spear behind. But, when Calthon came to
Lona's rock, he found his fallen brother. The
rage of his bosom rose ; he rushed among the foe.

128 CALTHON AND COLMAL.

Ossian encourages his heroes to emulate the glorj of their fathers.

The groans of death ascend. They close around
the chief. He is bound in the midst, and brought
to gloomy Dunthalmo. The shout of joy arose ;
and the hills of night replied.

I started at the sound ; and took my father's
spear. Diaran rose at my side ; and the youthful
strength of Dargo. We missed the chief of Clutha,
and our souls were sad. I dreaded the departure
of my fame. The pride of my valour rose ! " Sons
of Morven !" I said, " it is not thus our fathers
fought. They rested not on the field of strangers,
when the foe was not fallen before them. Their
strength was like the eagles of heaven ; their re-
nown is in the song. But our people fall by de-
grees. Our fame begins to depart. What shall
the king of Morven say, if Ossian conquers not at
Teutha ? Rise in your steel, ye warriors ! follow
the sound of Ossian's course. He will not return,
but renowned, to the echoing walls of Selma."

Morning rose on the blue waters of Teutha.
Colmal stood before me in tears. She told of the
chief of Clutha: Thrice the spear fell from her
hand. My wrath turned against the stranger ; for
my soul trembled for Calthon. " Son of the feeble
hand !" I said, " do Teutha's warriors fight with
tears ? The battle is not won with grief ; nor
dwells the sigh in the soul of war. Go to the deer
of Carmun, to the lowing herds of Teutha. But
leave these arms, thou son of fear! A warrior
may lift them in fight."

1 tore the mail from her shoulders. Her snowy

CALTHON AND COLMAL. 129

Ossian kills Dunthalmo, and gives Colinal to Calthon.

breast appeared. She bent her blushing face to
the ground. I looked in silence to the chiefs. The
spear fell from my hand ; the sigh of my bosom
rose ! But when I heard the name of the maid,
my crowding tears rushed down. I blessed the
lovely beam of youth, and bade the battle move !

Why, son of the rock, should Ossian tell how
Teutha's warrior's died ? They are now forgot in
their land ; their tombs are not found on the heath.
Years come on with their storms. The green
mounds are mouldered away. Scarce is the grave
of Dunthalmo seen, or the place where he fell by
the spear of Ossian. Some gray warrior, half blind
with age, sitting by night at the flaming oak of the
hall, tells now my deeds to his sons, and the fall of
the dark Dunthalmo. The faces of youth bend
sidelong towards his voice. Surprise and joy bum
in their eyes ! I found Calthon bound to an oak ;
my sword cut the thongs from his hands. I gave
him the white-bosomed Colmal. They dwelt in
the halls of Teutha.

THE WAR OF CAROS :

^ poem.

ARGUMENT.

Caros is probably the noted usurper Carausius, by birth a
Menapian^ who assumed the purple in the year 284 ; and^
seizing on Britain^ defeated the Emperor Maximian Her-
culius, in several naval engagements, -which gives propriety
to his being called in this poem the king of ships. He re-
paired Agricold's wall, in order to obstruct the incursions
of the Caledonians ; and when he was employed in that
work, it appears he was attacked by a party under the
command of Oscar, the son of Ossian. This battle is the
foundationof the present poem, which is addressed to MaU
vina, the daughter of Toscar.

THE WAR OF CAROS.

Bring, daughter of Toscar, bring the harp ! the
light of the song rises in Ossian's soul ! It is like
the field, when darkness covers the hills around, and
the shadow grows slowly on the plain of the sun.
I behold my son, O Malvina ! near the mossy rock
of Crona.* But it is the mist of the desart, tinged
with the beam of the west ! Lovely is the mist
that assumes the form of Oscar ! turn from it, ye
winds, when ye roar on the side of Ardven !

Who comes towards my son, with the murmur
of a song? His staff is in his hand, his gray hair
loose on the wind. Surely joy lightens his face.
He often looks back to Caros. It is Ryno f of
songs, he that went to view the foe. " What does
Caros, king of ships ?" said the son of the now
mournful Ossian, " spreads he the wings ^ of his
pride, bard of the times of old ?" " He spreads
them, Oscar," replied the bard, " but it is behind
his gathered heap.§ He looks over his stones with

• Croua is the name of a small stream which runs into the Carron.
t Ryno is often mentioned in the ancient poetry. He seems to have
been a bard of tlie first rank in the days of Fingal.
± The Roman Eagle.

^ Agricola's wall, which Carausius repaired.
VOL. I. M

134 THE WAR OF CAROS.

Oscar challeuges Caros and his heroes to the combat.

fear. He beholds thee terrible, as the ghost of
night, that rolls the wave to his ships !"

" Go, thou first of my bards !" says Oscar, " take
the spear of Fingal. Fix a flame on its point ; shake
it to the winds of heaven. Bid him in songs to
advance, and leave the rolling of his wave. Tell
to Caros, that I long for battle ; that my bow is
weary of the chase of Cona. Tell him the mighty
are not here ; and that my arm is young."

He went with the murmur of songs. Oscar
reared his voice on high. It reached his heroes on
Ardven, like the noise of a cave ; when the sea of
Togorma rolls before it ; and its trees meet the
roaring winds. They gather round my son like
the streams of the hill ; when, after rain, they roll
in the pride of their course. Ryno came to the
mighty Caros. He struck his flaming spear. Come
to the battle of Oscar, O thou that sittest on the
rolling of waves ! Fingal is distant far ; he hears
the songs of bards in Morven : The wind of his
hall is in his hair. His temble spear is at his side :
His shield that is like the darkened moon ! Come
to the battle of Oscar ; the hero is alone !

He came not over the streamy Carun.* The
bard returned with his song. Gray night grows
dim on Croma. The feast of shells is spread. A
hundred oaks burn to the wind ; faint light gleams
over the heath. The ghosts of Ardven pass through
the beam, and show their dim and distant forms.

' The river Carron.

THE WAR OF CAR OS. 135

Episode of Hidallan, one of the heroes of Fingal.

Comala * is half unseen on her meteor ; Hidallan
is sullen and dim, like the darkened moon behind
the mist of night.

" Why art thou sad ?" said Ryno ; for he alone
beheld the chief. " Why art thou sad, Hidallan !
hast thou not received thy fame ! The song-s of
Ossian liaA'e been heard ; thy ghost has brightened
in mnd, when thou didst bend from thy cloud, to
hear the song of Morven's bard \" " And do thine
eyes," said Oscar, " behold the chief, like the dim
meteor of night ? Say, Ryno, say, how fell Hi-
dallan, the renowned in the days of my fathers ?
His name remains on the rocks of Cona. I have
often seen the streams of his hills !"

Fingal, replied the bard, drove Hidallan from his
wars. The king's soul was sad for Comala, and
his eyes could not behold the chief. Lonely, sad,
along the heath he slowly moved, with silent steps.
His arms hang disordered on his side. His hair
flies loose from his brow. The tear is on his down-
cast eyes ; a sigh half-silent in his breast ! Three
days he strayed unseen, alone, before he came to
Lamor's halls ! the mossy halls of his fathers, at the
stream of Balva.f There Lamor sat alone beneath

• This is the scene of Comala's death, which is the subject of the dra-
matic poem. The poet mentions her in this place, in order to introduce
the sequel of Hidallan's story, who, on account of her death, had been
expelled from the wars of Fingal.

t This is perhaps that small stream, still retaining the name of Balva,
which runs through the romantic valley of Glentivar in Stirlingshire.
Balva signifies a silent stream ; and Glentivar the sequestered vale.

136 THE WAR OF CAROS.

Continuation of the episode of Hidallan.

a tree ; for he had sent his people with Hidallan to
war. The stream ran at his feet, his gray head
rested on his staff. Sightless are his aged eyes.
He hums the song of other times. The noise of
Hidallan's feet came to his ears : He knew the
tread of his son.

" Is the son of Lamor returned ; or is it the
sound of his ghost ? Hast thou fallen on the banks
of Carun, son of the aged Lamor ? Or, if I hear
the sound of Hidallan's feet, where are the mighty
in the war ? where are my people, Hidallan ! that
were wont to return with their echoing shields?
Have they fallen on the banks of Carun ?"

" No :" replied the sighing youth, " the people
of Lamor live. They are renowned in war, my
father ! but Hidallan is renowned no more. I must
sit alone on the banks of Balva, when the roar of
battle grows."

" But thy fathers never sat alone," replied the
rising pride of Lamor. " They never sat alone on
the banks of Balva, when the roar of battle arose.
Dost thou not behold that tomb ? my eyes discern
it not : there rests the noble Garmallon, who never
fled fi'om war ! Come, thou renowned in battle, he
says, come to thy father's tomb. How am I re-
nowned, Garmallon ? my son has fled from war !"

" King of the streamy Balva !" said Hidallan
with a sigh, " why dost thou torment my soul ?
Lamor, I never fled. Fingal was sad for Comala ;
he denied his wars to Hidallan. Go to the gray
streams of thy land, he said ; moulder like a leaf-

THE WAR OF CAROS. 137

Continuation of the episode of Hidallan.

less oak, which the winds have bent over Balva,
never more to grow !"

" And must I hear," Lamor replied, " the lonely
tread of Hidallan's feet? When thousands are
renowned in battle, shall he bend over my gray
streams ? Spirit of the noble Garmallon ! carry
Lamor to his place ; his eyes are dark ; his soul is
sad ; his son has lost his fame !"

" \Vhere," said the youth, " shall I search for
fame to gladden the soul of Lamor ? From whence
shall I return with renown, that the sound of my
arms may be pleasant in his ear ? If I go to the
chase of hinds, my name will not be heard. Lamor
will not feel my dogs with his hands, glad at my
arrival from the hill. He will not inquire of his
mountains, or of the dark-brown deer of his de-
sarts !"

" I must fall," said Lamor, " like a leafless oak ;
it grew on a rock ! it Avas overturned by the winds !
My ghost will be seen on my hills, mournful for
my young Hidallan. Will not ye, ye mists ! as ye
rise, hide him from my sight ? My son ! go to
Lamor's hall : there the arms of our fathers hang.
Bring the sword of Garmallon ; he took it from a
foe !"

He went, and brought the sword, with all its
studded thongs. He gave it to his father. The
gray-haired hero felt the point with his hand.

" My son ! lead me to Garmallon's tomb : it
rises beside that rustling tree. The long gi-ass is
withered ; I hear the breezes whistUng there. A
M 2

138 THE AVAR OP^ CAROS.

Oscar invokes the ghosts of his fathers.

little fountain miu'murs near, and sends its water to
Balva. There let me rest ; it is noon : the sun is
on our fields !"

He led him to Garmallon's tomb. Lamor pierced
the side of his son. They sleep together: their
ancient halls moulder away. Ghosts are seen there
at noon : the vaUey is silent, and the people shun
the place of Lamor.

" Mournful is thy tale," said Oscar, " son of the
times of old ! My soul sighs for Hidallan ; he fell
in the days of his youth. He flies on the blast of
the desart ; his wandering is in a foreign land.
Sons of the echoing Morven ! draAV near to the
foes of Fingal : Send the night away in songs ;
watch the strength of Caros. Oscar goes to the
people of other times ; to the shades of silent Ard-
ven : where his fathers sat dim in their clouds, and
behold the future war. And art thou there, Hid-
allan, like a half-extinguished meteor ? Come to my
sight, in thy son'ow, chief of the winding Balva !"
The heroes move with their songs. Oscar slowly
ascends the hill. The meteor of night set on the
heath before him. A distant tonent faintly roars.
Unfrequent blasts i^ush through aged oaks. The
half-enlightened moon sinks dim and red behind
her hill. Feeble voices are heard on the heath.
Oscar drew his sword !

" Come," said the hero, " O ye ghosts of my
fathers ! ye that fought against the kings of the
world ! Tell me tlie deeds of future times ; and
your converse in your caves ; when you talk toge-

THE WAR OF CAROS. 139

The spirit of Trenmor forewarns Oscar of the fall of Fingal 's race.

ther, and behold your sons in the fields of the
brave."

Trenmor came from his hill, at the voice of his
mighty son. A cloud, like the steed of the stran-
ger, supported his auy limbs. His robe is of the
mist of Lano, that brings death to the people. His
sword is a green meteor, half-extinguished. His
face is without form, and dark. He sighed thrice
over the hero : thrice the winds of night roared
around ! Many were his words to Oscar ; but
they only came by halves to our ears : they were
dark as the tales of other times, before the light of
the song arose. He slowly vanished, like a mist
that melts on the sunny hill. It was then, O daugh-
ter of Toscar ! my son began first to be sad. He
foresaw the fall of his race. At times he was
thoughtful and dark ; like the sun when he carries
a cloud on his face, but again he looks forth from
his darkness, on the green hills of Cona.

Oscar passed the night among his fathers, gray
morning met him on Carun's banks. A green vale
surrounded a tomb which arose in the times of old.
Little hills lift their heads at a distance ; and stretch
their old trees to the wind. The warriors of Caros
sat there, for they had passed the stream by night.
They appeared, like the trunks of aged pines, to the
pale light of the morning. Oscar stood at the tomb,
and raised tlu-ice his temble voice. The rocking
hills echoed around ; the starting roes bounded
away ; and the trembling ghosts of the dead fled,

140 THE WAR OF CAROS.

Oscar, singly, opposes the Roman legions.

shrieking on their clouds. So terrible was the voice
of my son, when he called his friends !

A thousand spears arose around ; the people of
Caros rose. Why, daughter of Toscar, why that
tear ? My son, though alone, is brave. Oscar is
like a beam of the sky ; he turns around, and the
people fall. His hand is the aim of a ghost, when
he stretches it from a cloud ; the rest of his thin
form is unseen ; but the people die in the vale !
My son beheld the approach of the foe ; he stood
in the silent darkness of his strength. " Am I
alone," said Oscar, " in the midst of a thousand
foes ? Many a spear is there ! Many a darkly-
rolling eye ! Shall I fly to Ardven ? But did my
fathers ever fly ? The mark of their arm is in a
thousand battles. Oscar too shall be renowned !
Come, ye dim ghosts of my fathers, and behold my
deeds in war ! I may fall ; but I will be renowned
like the race of the echoing Morven." He stood,
growing in his place, like a flood in a nan-ow vale !
The battle came, but they fell : Bloody was the
sword of Oscar.

The noise reached his people at Crona ; they
came like a hundred streams. The Avarriors of Ca-
ros fled ; Oscar remained like a rock left by tlie
ebbing sea. Now dark and deep, with all his steeds,
Caros rolled his might along : The little streams
are lost in his course ; the earth is rocking round.
Battle spreads from wing to Aving : Ten thousand
swords gleam at once in the sky. But why should

THE WAR OF CAROS. 141

Ossian glories in the thought of his future fame.

Ossian sing of battles ? For never more shall my
steel shine in war. I remember the days of my
youth with gi'ief, when I feel the weakness of my
arm. Happy are they who fell in their youth, in
the midst of their renown ! They have not beheld
the tombs of their fiiends ; or failed to bend the
bow of their strength. Happy art thou, O Oscar,
in the midst of thy rushing blast. Thou often go-
est to the fields of thy fame, where Caros fled from
thy lifted sword.

Darkness comes on my soul, O fair daughter of
Toscar ! I behold not the form of my son at Ca-
run ; nor the figure of Oscar on Crona. The rust-
ling winds have cai'ried him far away ; and the heart
of his father is sad. But lead me, O Malviua ! to
the sound of my woods ; to the roar of my moun-
tain streams. Let the chase be heard on Cona ;
let me think on the days of other years. And bring
me the harp, O maid ! that I may touch it, when
the light of my soul shall arise. Be thou near, to
learn the song ; futm'e times shall hear of me ! The
sons of the feeble hereafter will lift the voice on
Cona ; and, looking up to the roclvs, say, " Here
Ossian dwelt.'' They shall admire the chiefs of
old, the race that are no more ! while we ride on
our clouds, Malvina ! on the wings of the roaring
winds. Our voices shall be heard, at times, in the
desart ; we shall sing on the breeze of the rock !

CATHLIN OF CLUTHA:

ARGUMENT.

An address to Malvina^ the daughter of Toscar. The poet
relates the arrival of Cathlin in Sehna, to solicit aid against
Duth-carnior^ of Cluba^ who had killed Cathmol., for the
sake of his daughter Lanul. Fi/igal declining to make a
choice among his heroes., "who "were all claitning the com-
mand of the expedition^ they retired each to his hill of
ghosts, to he determined hy dreams. The spirit of Tren-
mor appears to Ossian and Oscar ; they sail from the hay
of Carmona, and on the fourth day., appear off the valley
of Rath-col, in Inis-huna, "where Duth-carmor had fixed
his residence. Ossian dispatches a hard to Duth-carmor
to demand battle. Night comes on. The distress of Cath-
lin ofClutha. Ossian devolves the command on Oscar., who,
according to the custom of the kings of Morven, before
battle, retired to a neighbouring hill. Upon the coming
on of day, the battle joins. Oscar and Duth-carmor meet.
The latter falls. Oscar carries the ynail and helmet of
Duth-carmor to Cathlin, who had retired from the field.
Cathlin is discovered to he the daughter of Cathmol, in dis-
guise, who had been carried off, by force, by, and had made
her escape from, Duth-carmor.

CATHLIN OF CLUTHA.

* Come, thou beam that art lonely, from watch-
ing in the niofht ! The squally Avinds are around
thee, from all their echoing hills. Red, over my
hundred streams, are the light covered paths of the
dead. They rejoice, on the eddying winds, in the
still season of night. Dwells there no joy in song,
white hand of the hai-ps of Lutha? Awake the
voice of the stiing ; and roll my soul to me. It is a
stream that has failed. • Malvina, pour the song.

• The traditions which accompany this poem inform us, that it
went, of old, under the name of Laoi Oi-lutha, i. c. the hy7nn of the
maid of Lutha. They pretend also to fix the time of its composition
to the third year after the death of Fingal ; that is, during the expedi-
tion of Fergus the son of Fingal, to the banks of Uisca-duthon. In
support of this opinion the Highland senachies have prefixed to this
poem an address of Ossian, to C'ongal the young son of Fergus, which
I have rejected, as having no manner of connection with the piece. It
has poetical merit : and probably, it was the opening of one of Ossian's
other poems, though the bards have injudiciously transferred it to the
piece now before us.

" Congal, son of Fergus of Durah, thou light between thy locks, as-
cend to the rock of Selma, to the oak of the breaker of shields. Look
over the bosom of night, it is streaked with the red paths of the dead ;
look on the night of ghosts, and kindle, O Congal, thy soul ! Be not
like the moon on a stream, lonely in the midst of clouds; darkness
closes around it, and the beam departs. Depart not, son of Fergus !
ere thou markest the field with thy sword. Ascend to the rock of
Selma ; to the oak of the breaker of sluelds.'*
VOL. 1. N

146 CATHLIN OF CLUTHA.

Ossian addresses liis beloved Malvina.

I hear thee, from thy darkness, in Selma, thou
tliat watchest lonely by night ? Why didst thou
^vithhold the song from Ossian' s failing soul? As
the falling brook to the ear of the hunter, descend-
ing from his storm-covered hill; in a sun-beam
rolls the echoing stream; he hears, and shakes his
dewy locks: such is the voice of Lutha, to the
friend of the spirits of heroes. My swelling bo-
som beats high. I look back on the days that are
past. Come, thou beam that art lonely, from
watching in the night !

In the echoing bay of Carmona, * we saw, one

» Car-mona , bai/ of the dark-brown hills, an ann of the sea, in the
neighbourhood of Selma. In this paragraph are mentioned the signals
presented to Fingal by those who came to demand his aid. The sup-
pliants held, in one hand, a shield covered with blood, and, in the other
a broken spear ; the first a symbol of the death of their friends, the
last an emblem of their own helpless situation. If the king chose to
grant succours, which generally was the case, he reached to them the
shell of feasts, as a token of his hospitality and friendly intention to-
wards them.

It may not be disagreeable to the reader to lay here before him the
ceremony of the Cran-tara, which was of a similar nature, and, till
very lately, used in the Highlands. When the news of an enemy
came to the residence of the chief, he immediately killed a goat with
his own sword, dipped the end of a half-burned piece of wood in the
blood, and gave it to one of his servants to be carried to the next
hamlet. From hamlet to hamlet this tessera was carried with tlie ut-
most expedition, and in tlie space of a few hours, the whole clan were
in arms, and convened in an appointed place ; the name of which was
the only word that accompanied the delivery of the Cran-tara. This
symbol was the manifesto of the chief, by which he threatened fire and
sword to those of his clan that did not immediately ap^iear at his stan-
dard.

CATHLIN OF CLUTIIA. 147

Catlilin implores Fmgal to revenge the death of Cathmol.

day, the bounding ship. On high hung a broken
shield, it was marked with wandenng blood. For-
ward came a youth in arms, and stretched his
pointless spear. Long, over his tearful eyes, hung
loose his disordered locks. Fingal gave the shell
of kings. The words of the stranger arose. " In
his hall lies Cathmol of Clutha, by the winding of
his own dark streams. Duth-cannor saw white-
bosomed Lanul, * and pierced her father's side.
In the rushy desert were my steps. He fled in
the season of night. Give thine aid to Cathlin to
revenge his father. I sought thee not as a beam
in a land of clouds. Thou, like the sun, art known,
king of echoing Selma!"

Selma's king looked around. In his presence,
we rose in arms. But who should lift the shield?
for all had claimed the war. The night came
down; we strode, in silence, each to his hill of
ghosts; that spirits might descend in our dreams,
to mark us for the field. We struck the shield of
the dead ; Ave raised the hum of songs. We thrice
called the ghosts of our fathers. We laid us down
in dreams. Trenmor came, before mine eyes, the
tall form of other yeai's ! His blue hosts were be-
hind him in half-extinguished rows. Scarce seen is
their strife in mist, or their stretching forward to

« Lanul, /?/^/ ei/ed, a surname which, according to tradition, was be-
stowed on the daughter of rathmol, on account of her beauty ; this tra-
dition, however, may have been founded on that partiality which the
bards have shown to Cathlin of Clutha for, according to them, no
falsehood could dwell in the soul of the lovely.

U8 CATHLIN OF CLUTIIA.

deaths. I listened: but no sound was there. The
forms Avere empty wmd!

I started from the dream of ghosts. On a sud-
den blast flew my whistlinp: hair. Low-sounding,
in the oak, is the departure of the dead. I took
my shield fiom its bough. Onward came the
rattling of steel. It was Oscar* of Lego. He
had seen his fathers. " As i-ushes forth the blast,
on the bosom of whitening waves; so careless
shall my course be, thi'ough ocean, to the dwelling
of foes. I have seen the dead, my father! My
beating soul is high! My fame is bright before
me, like the streak of light on a cloud, when the
broad sun comes forth, red traveller of the sky!"

" Grandson of Branno," I said; " not Oscar
alone shall meet the foe. I rush forward, through
ocean, to the woody dwelling of heroes. Let us
contend, my son, like eagles, from one rock; when
they lift their broad wings, against the stream of
winds." We raised our sails in Carmona. From
three ships, they marked my shield on the wave,
as I looked on nightly Tonthenaf , red traveller

• Oscar is here called Oscar of Lego, from his mother being the daugh-
ter of Branno, a powerful chief on the banks of that lake. It is remar-
kable that Ossian addresses no poem to Malvina in which her lover Os-
car was not one of the principal actors. His attention to her, after the
death of his son, shows that delicacy of sentiment is not confined, as
some fondly imagine, to our own polished times.

t Ton-thena,^re (tfthe wave, was the remarkable star mentioned in
the seventh book of Temora, which directed the course of Larthon to
Ireland. It seems to have been well known to those who sailed on that

CATHLIN OF CLUTHA. 149

Ossian and his son, Oscar, challenge Duth-carmoT to battle.

between the clouds. Four days came the breeze
abroad. Lumon came forward in mist. In wdnds
were its hundred groves. Sun-beams marked, at
times, its brown side. White, leapt the foamy-
streams, from all its echoing rocks.

A green field, in the bosom of hills, winds silent
with its own blue stream. Here, midst the wav-
ing of oaks, Avere the dwellings of kings of old.
But silence, for many dark-brown years, had settled
in grassy Rath-col ; * for the race of heroes had
failed along the pleasant vale. Duth-carmor was
here, with his people, dark rider of the wave.
Ton-thena had hid her head in the sky. He bound
his white-bosomed sails. His course is on the hills
of Rath-col, to the seats of roes. We came. I
sent the bard, with songs, to call the foe to fight.
Duth-carmor heard him, Avith joy. The king's
soul was like a beam of fire ; a beam of fire,
marked with smoke, rushing, varied, through the
bosom of night. The deeds of Duth-carmor were
dark, though his arm was strong.

Night came with the gathering of clouds. By
the beam of the oak we sat down. At a distance

sea which divides Ireland from South Britain. As the course of Ossian
was along the coast of Inis-huna, he mentions with propriety that star
which directed the voyage of the colony from that country to Ireland.
* Ratheol, woody field, does not appear to have been the residence of
Duth-carmor ; he seems rather to have been forced thither by a storm;
at least I should think that to be the naeaning of the poet, from his ex-
pression, that Ton-thena had hid her head, and ih^t he bound his -white'
bosomed sails y which is as much as to say, that the weather was stormy
and that Duth-carmor put into the bay of Rath-col for shelter.

150 CATHLIN OF t LLTHA.

stood Cathlin of Clutha. I saw the changeful*
80ul of the stranger. As sliadows fly over the
field of grass, so various is Cathlin's cheek. It was
fair, within locks that rose on Rath-col's wind. I
did not rush, amidst his soul, with my words. I
bade the song to rise.

" O^car of Lego," I said, " he thine the secret -j-
hill to-night. Strike the shield, like Morven's
kings. With day thou shalt lead in war. From
my rock I shall see thee, Oscar, a dreadful form
ascending in fight, like the appearance of ghosts,
amidst the storms they raise. Why should mine
eyes return to the dim times of old, ere yet the
song had burst forth, like the sudden rising of
winds? But the years that are past are marked

» From this circumstance, succeeding bards feigned that Cathlin,
who is here in the disguise of a young warrior, had fallen in love with
Duth-carmor at a feast, to which he had been invited by her father.
Her love was converted into detestation for him, after he had murdered
her father. But as those rainbows of heaven a^e changeful, say my au-
thors, speaking of women, she felt the return of her former passion,
upon the approach of Duth-carmor's danger. I myself, who think more
favourably of the sex, must attribute the agitation of Cathlin's mind
to her extreme sensibility to the injuries done her by Duth-carmor:
and this opinion is favoured by the sequel of the story.

t This passage alludes to the well-known custom among the ancient
kings of Scotland, to retire from their army on the night preceding a bat-
tle. The story which Ossian introduces in the next paragraph concerns
the fall of the Druids. It is said, in many old poems, that the Druids,
in the extremity of their affairs, had solicited and obtained aid from
Scandinavia. Among the auxiliaries there came many pretended ma-
gicians, which circumstance Ossian alludes to in his description of the
son of Loda. Magic and incantation could not, however, prevail; for
Trenmor, assisted by the valour of his son Trathal, entirely broke the
power of the Druids.

CATIILIN OF CLUTHA. 151

Ei>is<xle. Destruction of the Druids by Tienmor.

with mighty deeds. As the nightly rider of waves
looks up to Tonthena of beams : so let us turn our
eyes to Trenmor, the father of kings."

" Wide, in Caracha's echoing field, Carmal had
poured his tribes. They were a dark ridge of
waves. The gray-haired bards were like moving
foam on their face. They kindled the strife
around, with their red-rolling eyes. Nor alone
were the dwellers of rocks; a son of Loda was
there; a voice, in his own dark land, to call the
ghosts from on high. On his hill he had dwelt
in Lochlin, in the midst of a leafless grove. Five
stones lifted, near, their heads. Loud roared his
rushing stream. He often raised his voice to the
winds, when meteors marked their nightly wings;
when the dark-robed moon was rolled behind her
liill Nor unheard of ghosts was he ! They came
with the sound of eagle Avings. They turned bat-
tle in fiehls, before the kings of men.

" But, Trenmor, they turned not from battle.
He drew forward the troubled war; in its dark
skirt was Trathal, like arising light. It was dark;
and Loda's son poured forth his signs on night.
The feeble were not before thee, son of other
lands! Then rose the strife of kings *, about the
hill of night ; but it was soft as two summer gales,
shaking tlieir lipbt wings on a lake. Trenmor
yielded to his son; for the fame of the king had

• Trenmor and Trathal. Ossian introduces this episode as an cxam-
])\c to his son, from ancient limes.

152 CATHLIN OF CLUTHA.

Os&ian kills Duth-carmor in battle.

been heard. Trathal came forth before his fame,
and the foes failed in echoing Caracha. The years
that are past, my son, are marked with mighty
deeds."* * * *

* * * *

In clouds rose the eastern light. The foe came
forth in arms. The strife is mixed on Rathcol,
like the roar of streams. Behold the contending
of kings ! They meet beside the oak. In gleams
of steel the dark forms are lost: such is the meet-
ing of meteors, in a vale by night: red light is
scattered round, and men foresee the storm ! Duth-
carmor is low in blood! The son of Ossian over-
came! Not harmless in battle was he, Malvina,
hand of harps !

Nor, in the field, were the steps of Cathlin.
The stranger stood by a secret stream, where the
foam of Rath-col skirted the mossy stones. Above,
bends the branchy birch, and strews its leaves on
winds. The inverted spear of Cathlin touched, at
times, the stream. Oscar brought Duth-carmor's
mail: his helmet with its eagle wing. He placed
them before the stranger, and his words were
heard. " The foes of thy father have failed. They
are laid in the field of ghosts. Renown returns to

* Those who deliver down this poem in tradition, lament that there
is a great part of it lost. In particular, they regret the loss of an episode,
which was here introduced, with the sequel of the story of Carmal and
his Druids. Their attachment to it was founded on the descriptions of
magical enchantments which it contained.

CATHLIN OF CLUTHA. 153

Cathlin of Clutha dies of grief.

Morveii, like a rising wind. Why art thou dark,
chief of Clutha! Is there cause for grief?"

" Son of Ossian of harps, my soul is darkly sad.
I behold the aims of Cathmol, which he raised in
war. Take the mail of Cathlin, place it high in
Selraa's hall; that thou mayest remember the hap-
less in thy distant land." From white breasts de-
scended the mail. It was the race of kings; the
soft-handed daughter of Cathmol, at the streams of
• Clutha! Duth-carmor saw her bright in the hall,
he had come by night to Clutha. Cathmol met
him in battle, but the hero fell. Three days dwelt
the foe with the maid. On the fourth she fled in
arms. She remembered the race of kings, and
felt her bursting soul!

" Why, maid of Toscar of Lutha, should I tell
how Catldin failed? Her tomb is at rushy Lu-
mon, in a distant land. Near it were the steps of
Sul-malla, in the days of grief. She raised the
song, for the daughter of strangers, and touched
the mournful harp.

Come, from the watching of night, Malyina,
lonely beam!

SUL-MALLA OF LUMON:

^ poem.

ARGUMENT.

This poem^ xchich^ properly speakings is a continuation of the
last^ opens with an address to Sul-maUa, the daughter of
the kifig of Inis-fiuna, "whom Ossian met at the chase ^ as
he returned from the battle of Rath-col. Sul-malla invites
Ossian and Oscar to a feast, at the residence of her father^
ivho was tJien absent in the wars. Upon hearing their
name a7id family, she relates an expedition of Fingal into
Inis-hzma. She, casually mentioning Cathmor, chief of
Atha, (who then assisted her father against his enemies,)
Ossian introduces the episode ofColgorm and Sura)idtonlo,
two Scandinavian kings, in whose wars Ossian himself and
Cathmor were engaged on opposite sides. The story is im-
perfect, a part of the original being lost. Ossian, warned in
a dream by the ghost of Trenmor, sets sail from Inis-huna,

SUL-MALLA OF LUMON.

* Who moves so stately on Lumon, at the roar
of the foamy waters? Her hair falls upon her
heaving breast. White is her ami behind, as slow
she bends the bow. Why dost thou wander in
deserts, like a light through a cloudy field? The
young roes are panting, by their secret rocks. Re-
turn, thou daughter of kings ! the cloudy night is
near! It was the young branch of green Inis-huna,
Sul-malla of blue eyes. She sent the bard from
her rock, to bid us to her feast. Amidst the song

» The expedition of Ossian to Inis-huna happened a short time before
Fingal passed over into Ireland, to dethrone Cair-bar, the son of Bor-
bar-duthul. Cathmor, the brother of Cair-bar, was aiding Conmor,
king of Inis-huna, in his wars, at the time that Ossian defeated Duth-
carmor, in the valley of Rath-col. The poem is the more interesting
that it contains so many particulars concerning those personages who
make so great a figure in Temora.

The exact correspondence in the manners and customs of Inis-huna,
as here described, to those of Caledonia, leaves no room to doubt that
the inhabitants of both were originally the same people. Some may
allege, that Ossian might transfer, in his poetical descriptions, the man-
ners of his own nation to foreigners. This objection is easily answered.
Why has he not done this with regard to the inhabitants of Scandina-
via ? We find the latter very different in their customs and supersti-
tions from the nations of Britain and Ireland. The Scandinavian man -
ners are remarkably barbarous and fierce, and seem to mark out a nation
much less advanced in a state of civilization than the inhabitants of Bri-
tain were in the times of Ossian.
VOL. 1. O

158 SUL-MALLA OF LUMON.

Sul-tnalla recognises the sons of the great Fingal.

we sat down in Cluba's echoing hall. White
moved the hands of Sul-malla, on the trembling
strings. Half-heard amidst the sound, was the
name of Atha's king : he that was absent in battle
for her own green land. Nor absent from her
soul was he; he came amidst her thoughts by-
night. Ton-thena looked in, from the sky, and
saw her tossing arms.

The sound of shells had ceased. Amidst her
long locks, Sul-malla rose. She spoke with bended
eyes, and asked of our course through seas; " for
of the kings of men are ye, tall riders of the
wave."* " Not unknown," I said, " at his streams
is he, the father of our race. Fingal has been
heard of at Cluba, blue-eyed daughter of kings.
Nor only, at Cona's stream is Ossian and Oscar

• Sul-malla here discovers the quality of Ossian and Oscar, from their
stature and stately gait. Among nations, not far advanced in their civi-
lization, a superior beauty and stateliness of person were inseparable
from nobility of mind. It was from these qualities that those of family
were known by strangers, not from tawdry trappings of state injudi-
ciously thrown round them. The cause of this distinguishing property
must, in some measure, be ascribed to their unmixed blood. They had
no inducement to intermarry with the vulgar ; and no low notions of in-
terest made them deviate from their choice, in their own sphere. In
states, where luxury has been long established, beauty of person is, by
no means, the characteristic of antiquity of family. This must be at-
tributed to those enervating vices which are inseparable from luxury
and wealth. A great family, (to alter a little the words of the histo-
rian,) it is true, like a river, becomes considerable from the length of
its course, but, as it rolls on, hereditary distempers, as well as property ,
flow successively into it.

SUL-MALLA OF LUMON. 159

Sul-malla's desrription of the great Fingal.

known. Foes trembled at our voice, and shrunk
in other lands."

" Not unmarked," said the maid, " by Sul-
malla is the shield of Morven's king. It hangs
high, in my father's hall, in memory of the past;
when Fingal came to Cluba, in the days of other
years. Loud roared the boai* of Culdamu, in the
midst of his rocks and woods. Inis-huna sent her
youths, but they failed; and virgins wept over
tombs. Careless went Fingal to Culdamu. On
his spear rolled the strength of the woods. He
was bright, they said, in his locks, the first of mor-
tal men. Nor at the feast were heard his words.
His deeds passed from his soul of fire, like the
rolling of the vapours from the face of the wander-
ing sun. Not careless looked the blue eyes of
Cluba on his stately steps. In white bosoms
rose the king of Selma, in the midst of their
thoughts by night. But the winds bore the
stranger to the echoing vales of his roes. Nor
lost to other lands was he, like a meteor that sinks
in a cloud. He came forth at times, in his bright-
ness, to the distant dwelling of foes. His fame
came, hke the sound of winds, to Cluba's woody
vale."*

• Too partial to our own times, we are ready to mark out remote an-
tiquity as the region of ignorance and barbarism. This, perhaps, is
extending our prejudices too far. It has been long remarked, that
knowledge, in a great measure, is founded on a free intercourse be-
tween mankind ; and that the mind is enlarged in proportion to the
observations it has made upon the manners of different men and na-

160 SUL-MALLA OF LUMON.

Sul-malla acquaints the heroes of Morven with the cause of her father's absence.

" Darkness dwells in Cluba of harps: the race
of kings is distant far; in battle is my father Con-
mor: and Lormar* my brother, king of streams.
Nor darkening alone are they; a beam from other
lands is nigh; the friend of strangers f in Atha, the
troubler of the field. High, from their misty hills,
look forth the blue eyes of Erin; for he is far
away, young dweller of their souls! Nor, harm-
less, white hands of Erin! is Cathmor in the skirts
of war ; he rolls ten thousand before him in his dis-
tant field."

" Not imseen by Ossian," I said, " rushed

tions. If we look, with attention, into the history of Fingal, as deli-
vered by Ossian, we shall find that he was not altogether a poor, ignorant
hunter, confined to the narrow comer of an island. His expeditions to
all parts of Scandinavia, to the north of Germany, and the different
states of Great Britain and Ireland, were very numerous, and performed
under such a character, and at such times, as gave him an opportunity
to mark the undisguised manners of mankind. War and an active life,
as they call forth, by turns, all the powers of the soul, present to us the
different characters of men: in times of peace and quiet, for want of
objects to exert them, the powers of the mind lie concealed, in a great
measure, and we see only artificial passions and manners. It is from
this consideration I conclude, that a traveller of penetration could gather
more genuine knowledge from a tour of ancient Gaul, than from the
minutest observation of all the artificial manners and elegant refine-
ments of modern France.

« Lormar was the son of Conmor, and the brother of Sul-malla. Af-
ter the death of Conmor, Lormar succeeded him in the throne.

t Cathmor, the son of Borbar-duthal. It would appear, from the
partiality with which Sul-malla speaks of that hero, that she had seen
him, previous to his joining her father's army; though tradition
positively asserts, that it was after his return that she fell in love with
him.

SUL-MALLA OF LUMON. 161

Ossian relates the History of Culgorm and Suran-droiilo.

Cathmor from his streams, when he poured his
strength on I-thomo,* isle of many waves! In
stiite met two kings in I-thorno, Culgorm and
Suran-dronlo : each from his echoing isle, stem
hunters of the boar !

" They met a boar at a foamy stream; each
pierced him with his spear. They strove for the
fame of the deed ; and gloomy battle rose. From
isle to isle they sent a spear, broken, and stained
with blood, to call the friends of their fathers, in
their sounding arms. Cathmor came, from Erin,
to Culgorm, red-eyed king: I aided Suran-dronlo,
in his land of boars.

" We i-ushed on either side of a stream, which
roared through a blasted heath. High broken
rocks were round, with all their bending trees.
Near were two circles of Loda, with the stone of
power; where spirits descended by night, in dark-
red streams of fire. There, mixed with the mur-
mur of waters, rose the voice of aged men, they
called the forms of night to aid them in their war.

-j- " Heedless I stood with my people, where fell

♦ I-thorno, says tradition, was an Island in Scandinavia. In it, at a
hunting party, met Culgorm and Suran-dronlo, the kings of two neigh-
bouring isles. They differed about the honour of killing a boar ; and
a war was kindled between them. From this episode we may learn
that the manners of the Scandinavians were much more savage and
cruel than those of the Britons. It is remarkable, that the names in-
troduced in this story are not of Gaelic original, which circumstance
afibrds room to suppose that it had its foundation in true history.

t From the circumstance of Ossian not being present at the rites,
described in the preceding paragraph, we may suppose that he held

o2

162 SUL-MALLA OF LUMON.

History of Culgorin and Suran-dronlo.

the foamy stream from rocks. The moon moved
red from the mountain. My song, at times, arose.
Dark, on the other side, young Catlimor heard my
voice ; for he lay beneath the oak, in all his gleam-
ing arms. Morning came ; we rushed to fight:
from wing to wing is the rolling of strife. They
fell, like the thistle's head, beneath autumnal winds.

" In armour came a stately form ; I mixed my
strokes with the chief. By turns our shields are
pierced : loud rung our steely mails. His helmet
fell to the ground. In brightness shone the foe.
His eyes, two pleasant flames, rolled between his
wandering locks. I knew Catlimor of Atha, and
threw my spear on earth. Dark, we turned, and
silent passed to mix with other foes.

" Not so passed the striving kings.* They mixed
in echoing fray ; like the meeting of ghosts in the
dark wing of winds. Through either breast rush-
ed the spears, nor yet lay the foes on earth ! A
rock received their fall ; half-reclined they lay
in death. Each held the lock of his foe ; each
grimly seemed to roll his eyes. The stream of the

them in contempt. This difference of sentiment with regard to leli-
gion, is a sort of argument, that the Caledonians were not originally
a coluny of Scandinavians, as some have imagined. Concerning so re-
mote a period, mere conjecture must supply the place of argument
and positive proofs.

* Culgorm and Suran-dronlo. The combat of the kings and their
attitude in death are highly picturesque, and expressive of the feroci-
ty of manners which distinguished the northern nations.

SUL-MALLA OF LUMON. I63

Death of Culgorm and Suran-drunln.

rock leapt on their shields, and mixed below with
blood.

" The battle ceased in I-thorno. The strangers
met in peace ; Cathmor, from Atha of streams, and
Ossian, king of harps. We placed the dead in
earth. Our steps were by Runar's bay. With the
bounding boat, afar, advanced a ridgy wave. Dark
was the rider of seas, but a beam of light was
there, like the ray of the sun, in Stromlo's rolling
smoke. It was the daughter* of Suran-dronlo, wild

• Tradition has handed down the name of this princess. The bards
call her Runo-forlo, which has no other sort of title for being genuine,
but its not being of Gaelic original ; a distinction which the bards had
not the art to preser\e, when they feigned names for foreigners. The
highland senachies, who very often endeavoured to supply the defi-
ciency they thought they found in the tales of Ossian, have given us
the continuation of the story of the daughter of Suran-dronlo. The
catastrophe is so unnatural, and the circumstances of it so ridiculous-
ly pompous, that, for the sake of the inventors, I shall conceal them.

The wildly beautiful appearance of Runo-forlo made a deep impres-
sion on a chief, some ages ago, who was himself no contemptible poet.
The story is romantic, but not incredible, if we make allowances for
the lively imagination of a man of genius. Our chief sailing, in a
storm, along one of the islands of Orkney, saw a woman in a boat
near the shore, whom he thought, as he expresses it himself, as beau-
tiful as a sudden ray of the sun, on the dark-heaving deep. The veises
of Ossian, on the attitude of Runo-forlo, which was so similar to that of
the woman in the boat, wrought so much on his fancy, that he fell des-
perately in love. The winds, however, drove him from the coast, and
after a few days, he arrived at his residence in Scotland. There his
passion increased to such a degree, that two of his friends, fearing
the consequences, sailed to the Orkneys, to carry to him the object of
his desire. Upon inquiry they soon found the nymph, and carried
her to the enamoured chief; but mark his surprise, when, instead of

164 SUL-MALLA OF LUMON.

Address of the daughter of Suran.dronlo.

in brightened looks. Her eyes were wandering
flames, amidst disordered locks. Forward is her
white arm, with the spear ; her high-heaving breast
is seen, white as foamy waves, that rise, by turns,
amidst rocks. They are beautiful, but terrible,
and mariners call the winds!"

" Come, ye dwellers of Loda!" she said, " come,
Carchar, pale in the midst of clouds ! ^^ Sluthmor,
that stridest in airy halls! Corchtur, terrible in
winds! Receive, from his daughter's spear, the
foes of Suran-dronlo. No shadow, at his roaring
streams; no mildly-looking form was he! When
he took up his spear, the hawks shook their
sounding wings: for blood was poured around the
the steps of dark-eyed Suran-dronlo. He lighted
me, no harmless beam, to glitter on" his streams.
Like meteors, I was bright; but I blasted the foes
of Suran-dronlo."

* * * *

* * * ♦

Not unconcerned heard Sul-malla the praise of
Cathmor of shields. He was within her soul like
a fire in secret heath, which awakes at the voice of
the blast, and sends its beam abroad. Amidst the
song removed the daughter of kings, like the voice
of a summer-breeze; when it lifts the heads of
flowers, and curls the lakes and streams. The

a ray of the sun, he saw a skinny fisher woman, more than middle-
aged, appearing before him. Tradition here ends the story, but it
may be easily supposed that the passion of the chief soon subsided.

SUL-MALLA OF LUMON. 155

Os6iaii Is warned, in a dream, to set sail for Morven.

rustling sound gently spreads o'er the vale, softly
pleasing as it saddens the soul.

By night came a dream to Ossian; formless
stood the shadow of Trenmor. He seemed to
strike the dim shield, on Selma's streamy rock. I
rose, in my rattling steel; I knew that war was
near; before the A\dnds our sails were spread,
when Lumon showed its streams to the mom.

Come, from the watching of night, Malvina,
lonely beam!

THE WAR OF INIS-THONA:

^ Poem.

ARGUMENT.

Reflections on the poefs youth. An apostrophe to Sebna.
Oscar obtains leave to ffo to Jnis-Thona, an island of Scan-
dinavia. The mournful story of Argon and Ruro^ the two
sons of the king oflnis-thona. Oscar revenges their deathj
and returns in triumph to Selma. A soliloquy by the poet
himself.

THE WAR OF INIS-THONA.

Our youth is like the dream of the hunter on
the hill of heath. He sleeps in the mild beams of
the sun; he awakes amidst a storm; the red light-
nincr flies around: Trees shake their heads to the
wind! He looks back, with joy, on the day of the
sun, and the pleasant dreams of his rest! When
shall Ossian's youth return? When his ear delight
in the sound of arms? When shall I, like Oscar,
travel in the light of my steel? Come, with your
streams, ye hills of Cona! listen to the voice of
Ossian. The song rises, like the sun in my soul.
I feel the joys of other times!

I behold thy towers, O Selma! The oaks of
thy shaded wall: Thy streams sound in my ear;
thy heroes gather around. Fingal sits in the
midst. He leans on the shield of Trenmor: His
spear stands against the wall; he listens to the
song of his bards. The deeds of his arm are
heard; the actions of the king in his youth! Oscar
had returned from the chase, and heard the hero's
praise. He took the shield of Branno* from the

• This is Brano, the father of Everallin, and grandfather to Oscar;
he was of Irish extraction, and lord of the country round the lake of
VOL. I. P

170 THE WAR OF INIS-THONA.

Oscar intreat< Fingal to send him to the assistance of Annit , ting of Inis-Thona .

wall; his eyes were filled with tears. Red was
the cheek of youth. His voice was tremhling, low.
My spear shook its bright head in his hand: He
spoke to Morven's king.

" Fingal! thou king of heroes ! Ossian, next to
him in war ! Ye have fought in your youth ; your
names are renowned in song. Oscar is like the
mist of Cona ; I appear and I vanish away. The
bard will not know my name. The hunter will
not search in the heath for my tomb. Let me fight,
O heroes, in the battles of Inis-Thona. Distant is
the land of my war! Ye shall not hear of Oscar's
fall! Some bard may find me there; some bard
may give my name to song. The daughter of the
stranger shall see my tomb, and weep over the
youth that came from afar. The bard shall say
at the feast, " Hear the song of Oscar from the
distant land!"

" Oscar," replied the king of Morven, " thou
shalt fight, son of my fame! Prepare my dark-
bosomed ship to carry my hero to Inis-Thona,
Son of my son, regard our fame; thou art of the
race of renown! Let not the children of strangers
say, feeble are the sons of Morven ! Be thou, in
battle a roaring storm : Mild as the evening sun in
peace! Tell Oscar, to Inis-Thona's king, that
Fingal remembers his youth; when we strove in
the combat together in the days of Agandecca."

Lego. His great actions are handed down by tradition, and his hospi-
tality has passed into a proverb.

THE WAR OF INIS-THONA. 171

Owar arrives at the palace t>f Annir, the friend of Fingal.

They lifted up tlie sounding sail ; the wind
whistled through the thongs * of theii* masts.
Waves lash the oozy rocks : the strength of ocean
roars. My son beheld, from the wave, the land
of groves. He rushed into Runa's sounding bay,
and sent his sword to Annir of spears. The gray-
haired hero rose, when he saw the sword of Fingal.
His eyes were full of tears ; he remembered his
battles in youth. Twice had they lifted the spear,
before the lovely Agandecca: heroes stood far
distant, as if two spirits were striving in ^vinds.

" But now," began the king, " I am old ; the
sword lies useless in my hall. Thou, who art of
Morven's race ! Annir has seen the battle of
spears ; but now he is pale and withered, like the
oak of Lano , 1 have no son to meet thee with joy,
to bring thee to the halls of his fathers. Argon is
pale in the tomb, and Ruro is no more. My
daughter is in the hall of strangers : she longs to
behold my tomb. Her spouse shakes ten thousand
spears ; he comes t a cloud of death from Lano.

» Leather thongs were used among the Celtic nations instead of
ropes.

t Comialo had resolved on a war against his father-in-law, Annir,
king of Inis-thona, in order to deprive him of his kingdom. The in-
justice of his designs was so much resented by Fingal, that he sent his
grandson, Oscar, to the assistance of Annir. Both armies came soon to
a battle, in which the conduct and valour of Oscar obtained a complete
victory. An end was put to the war by the death of Cormalo, who
fell, in a single combat, by Oscar's hand. Thus is the story delivered
down by tradition ; though the poet, to raise the character of his son,
makes Oscar himself propose the expedition.

172 THE WAR OF fNIS-THONA.

Annir relates to Oscar the history of the death of his sons.

Come, to share the feast of Annir, son of echoing
Morven."

Three days they feasted together; on the fourth,
Annir heard the name of Oscar. They rejoiced
in the shell.* They pursued the boars of Runa.
Beside the fount of mossy stones, the weary heroes
rest. The tear steals in secret from Annir. He
broke the rising sigh. " Here darkly rest," the
hero said, " the children of my youth. This stone
is the tomb of Ruro ; that tree sounds over the
grave of Argon. Do ye hear my voice, O my
sons ! within your narrow house ? Or do ye speak
in these rustling leaves, when the winds of the
desert rise ?"

" King of Inis-thona," said Oscar, " how fell
the children of youth ? The wild boar rushes over
their tombs, but he does not disturb their repose.
They pursue deert formed of clouds, and bend
their airy bow. They still love the sport of their
youth ; and mount the wind with joy."

" Cormalo," rephed the king, " is a chief of ten
thousand spears. He dwells at the waters of
Lano,:|: which send forth the vapour of death. He

* To rejoice in the shell, is a phrase for feasting sumptuously and
drinking freely .

t The notion of Ossian concerning the state of the deceased, was the
same with that of the ancient Greeks and Romans. They imagined
that the souls pursued, in their separate state, the employments and
pleasures of their former life.

■^ Lano was a lake of Scandinavia, remarkable, in the days of Ossian,
for emitting a pestilential vajwur in autumn. And thou, 0 valiant

THE WAR OF INIS-THONA. 173

The sons of Annir trsacherously slain by Cormalo.

came to Runa's echoing halls, and sought the
honour of the spear.* The youth was lovely as
the first beam of the sun ; few were they who
could meet him in fight ! My heroes yielded to
Cormalo. My daughter was seized in his love.
Argon and Ruro returned from the chase ; the
tears of their pride descend : they roU their silent
eyes on Runa's heroes, who had yielded to a
stranger. Three days they feasted with Cormalo:
on the fourth young Argo fought. But who could
fight with Argon ! Cormalo is overcome. His
heart swelled ^Ndth the grief of pride ; he resolved
in secret to behold the death of my sons. They
went to the hills of Runa : they pursued the dark-
brown hinds. The arrow of Cormalo flew in
secret ; my children fell in blood. He came to the
maid of his love ; to Inis-thona's long-haired maid.
They fled over the desert. Annir remained alone.
Night came on and day appeared : nor Argon's
voice, nor Ruro's came. At length their much-
loved dog was seen ; the fleet and bounding Runar.
He came into the hall and howled ; and seemed to
look towards the place of their fall. We fol-
lowed him : we found them here : we laid them
by this mossy stream. This is the haunt of
Annir, when the chase of the hinds is past.

Duchomar ! like the mist of marshy Lano ; when it sails over the
plaiMof autumn, and brings death to the host.— FlUGAL, B. I.

» By the honour of the spear, is meant the tournament, practised
amoug the ancient uortliern nations.

p 2

174 THE WAR OF INIS-THONA.

Oscar kills Coriiialo in battle and defeats his army.

I bend like the trunk of an aged oak; my tears
for ever flow.''

" O Ronnan!" said the rising Oscar, " Ogar,
king of spears ! call my heroes to my side, the sons
of streamy Morven. To-day we go to Lano's
water, that sends forth the vapour of death. Cor-
malo will not long rejoice : death is often at the
point of our swords !"

They came over the desert like stormy clouds,
when the winds roll them along the heath. Their
edges are tinged with lightning; the echoing groves
foresee the storm ! The horn of Oscar s battle is
heard ; Lano shook over all its waves. The
children of the lake convened around the soimding
shield of Cormalo. Oscar fought, as he was wont
in war. Cormalo fell beneath his sword : the sons
of dismal Lano fled to their secret vales ! Oscar
brought the daughter of Inis-thona to Annir's
echoing halls. The face of age is bright with joy;
he blest the king of swords !

How gieat Avas the joy of Ossian, when he be-
held the distant sail of his son ! It was like a
cloud of light that rises in the east, when the
traveller is sad in a land unknoA\Ti; and dismal
night, with her ghosts, is sitting around in shades !
We brought him, with songs, to Selma's halls.
Fingal spread the feast of shells. A thousand
bards raised the name of Oscar: Morven answered
to the sound. The daughter of Toscar was there ;
her voice was like the harp, when the distant

THE WAR OF INIS-THONA. 175

Beautiful soliloquy of O&sian.

sound comes, in the evening, on the soft-rustling
breeze of the vale !

O lay me, ye that see the Ught, near some rock
of my hills. Let the thick hazels be around ; let
the rustling oak be near. Green be the place of
my rest ; let the sound of the distant torrent be
heard. Daughter of Toscar, take the harp, and
raise the lovely song of Selma; that sleep may
overtake my soul in the midst of joy ; that the
dreams of my youth may return, and the days
of the mighty Fingal. Selma ! I behold thy
towers, thy trees, thy shaded wall ! I see the
heroes of Morven ! I hear the song of bards !
Oscar Ufts the sword of CoiTnalo ; a thousand
youths admire its studded thongs. They look
with wonder on my son ; they admire the strength
of his arm. They mark the joy of his father's
eyes ; they long for an equal fame. And ye shall
have your fame, O sons of streamy Morven ! My
soul is often brightened Avith song; I remember the
fiiends of my youth. But sleep descends, in the
sound of the harp ! Pleasant dreams begin to rise !
Ye sons of the chase, stand far distant, nor disturb
my rest. The bard of other times holds discourse
with his fathers, the chiefs of the days of old !
Sons of the chase, stand far distant ! Distiu-b not
the dreams of Ossian !

THE SONGS OF SELMA:

^ poem.

ARGUMENT.

Addicss to the evening siar. An aposirophefo F'lvgal and
Msihncs. Mhiona sings lejhrc the Jdtig the song of the
unfortunate Colma : and the bards exhibit other specimens
of their poetical talents^ accmding to an annual custom es-
tablished by the monarehs of the ancient Caledonians.

THE SONGS OF SELMA.

Star of descending night, fair is thy light in
the west ! Thou liftest thy unshorn head from
thy cloud ; thy steps are stately on thy hill. "What
dost thou behold in the plain ? The stormy winds
are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from
afar. Roaring waves cUmb the distant rock. The
flies of evening are on their feeble wings ; the hum
of their course is on the field. What dost thou
behold, fair light? — But thou dost smile and depart.
The waves come with joy around thee : they bathe
thy lovely hair. Farewell, thou silent beam ! Let
the light of Ossian's soul arise !

And it does aiise in its strength ! I behold my
departed friends. Their gathering is on Lora, as
in the days of other years. Fingal comes Uke a
watery column of mist ; his heroes are around.
And see the bards of song, gray-haired Ullin !
stately Ryno ! Alpin, * with the tuneful voice ! the
soft complaint of Minona ! How are ye changed,
my friends, since the days of Selma's feast? When

* Alpin is from the same root with Albion, or rather Albin, thean-
dent name of Britain : Alp, high island, or country. The present name
of our island has its origin in the Celtic tongue; so that those who de-
rive it from any other, betray their ignorance of the ancient language
of our country. Brait or Braid, extensive ; and in, land.

180 THE SONGS OF SELMA.

The mournful history of Colma and Salgar:

A\e contended, like gales of spring, as they fly along
the hill, and bend, by turns, the feebly-whistling
grass.

Minona * came forth in her beauty ; Avith down-
cast look and tearful eye. Her hair flew slowly
on the blast, that rushed unfrequent fiom the hill.
The souls of the heroes were sad when she raised
the tuneful voice. Often had they seen the grave
of Salgar, f the dark dwelling of white-bosomed
Colma. J Colma left alone on the hill, with all her
voice of song ! Salgar promised to come ; but the
night descended around. Hear the voice of Col-
ma, when she sat alone on the hill !

Colma. It is night ; I am alone, forlorn on
the hill of storms. The wind is heard on the
mountain. The torrent pours dowoi the rock. No
hut receives me from the rain ; forlorn on the hill
of winds !

Rise, moon ! from behind thy clouds. Stars of
the night, arise ! Lead me, some light, to the
place where my love rests from the chase alone !
His bow near him, unstrung: his dogs panting
around him. But here I must sit alone, by the
rock of the mossy stream. The stream and the
wind roar loutL I hear n^t the voice of my love !
Why delays my Salgar, why the chief of the hill,

* Ossian introduces Minona, not in the ideal scene in his own mind,
which he' had described, but at the annual feast of Selma, where the
bards repeated their works before Fingal.

t Sealg-'er,a hunter.

% Cul-math, a woman with fine hair.

THE SONGS OF SEL3IA. 181

The hUtory of rolmri ami Salg.ir continued.

his promise? Here is the rock, and here the
tree ! Here is the roaring stream ! Thou didst
promise ^Wth night to he here. Ah ! whither is
my Salgar gone? With thee I would fly from
my father ; with thee, from my brother of pride.
Our race have long been foes ; we are not foes, O
Salgar!

Cease a little while, O wind ! Stream, be thou
silent a while ! Let my voice be heard around.
Let my wanderer hear me ! Salgar ! It is Colma
who calls. Here is the tree, and the rock. Sal-
gar, my love ! I am here. \Miy delayest thou thy
coming ? Lo ! the calm moon comes forth. The
flood is bright in the vale. The rocks are gray on
the steep. I see him not on the brow. His dogs
come not before him, with tidings of his near ap-
proach. Here I must sit alone.

Wlio lie on the heath beside me? Are they my
love and my brother ? Speak to me, O my friends !
To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me: I am
alone ! My soul is tormented \^dth fears ! Ah ! they
are dead ! They ai-e dead ! Their swords are red
from the fight. O my brother ! my brother ! why
hast thou slain my Salgar? Wliy, O Salgar!
hast thou slain my brother ? Dear were ye
both to me ! What shall I say in your praise ?
Thou Avert fair on the hill among thousands ! He
was terrible in fight ! Speak to me ; hear my
voice ; hear me, sons of my love ! They are silent ;
silent for ever ! Cold, cold are their breasts of
clay ! Oh ! from the rock on the hill ; from the

182 THE SONGS OF SELMA.

The history of Cohna and Salgar concluded.

top of -the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of
the dead ! speak, I will not be afraid ! Whi-
ther -are ye gone to rest ? In what cave of
the liill shall I find the departed ? No feeble
voice is on the gale ! no answer half-drowned in
the storm !

I sit in my grief! I wait for morning in my
tears ! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead.
Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away
like a dream: why should I stay behind? Here
shall I rest witli my friends, by the stream of the
sounding rock. When night comes on the hill ;
when the loud winds arise ; my ghost shall stand
in the blast, and mourn the death of my friends.
The hunter shall hear from his booth. He shall
fear, but love my voice. For sweet shall my voice
be for my friends. Pleasant were her friends to
Colma !

Such was thy song, Minona, softly-blushing
daughter of Torman. Our tears descended for
Colma, and our souls were sad. UUin came with
his harp ; he gave the song of Alpin. The voice
of Alpin was pleasant. The soul of Ryno was a
beam of fire. But they had rested in the nanow
house: their voice had ceased in Selma. Ullin
had returned, one day, from the chase, before the
heroes fell. He heard their strife on the hill ; their
song was soft but sad. They mourned the fall of
Morar, first of mortal men ! His soul was like the
soul of Fin gal ; his sword like the sword of Oscar.
But he fell, and his father mourned: his sister's

THE SONGS OF SELMA. 183

The death of Morar.

eyes were full of tears : — Minona's eyes were full
of tears, the sister of car-borne Morar. She retired
from the song of UUin, like the moon in the west,
when she foresees the shower, and hides her fair
head in a cloud. I touched the harp, with Ullin ;
the song of mourning rose !

Ryno. The wind and the rain are past : calm
is the noon of day. The clouds are divided in
heaven. Over the green hills flies the inconstant
sun. Red through the stony vale comes down the
stream of the hill. Sweet are thy murmurs, O
stream ! but more sweet is the voice I hear. It
is the voice of Alpin, the son of song, mourn-
ing for the dead ! Bent is his head of age ; red
his tearful eye. Alpin, thou son of song, why
alone on the silent hill ? Why complainest thou
as a blast in the wood ; as a wave on the lonely
shore ?

Alpin. My tears, O Ryno ! are for the dead ;
my voice for those that have passed away. Tall
thou art on the hill ; fair among the sons of the
vale. But thou shalt fall like Morar ; * the
mourner shall sit on thy tomb. The hills shall
know thee no more ; thy bow shall lie in the hall
unstrung !

Thou wert s^vift, O Morar! as a roe on the
desert; temble as a meteor of fire. Thy wrath
was as the storm. Thy sword in battle as light-
ning in the field. Thy voice was a stream aftiT

* yioi-ei, great wan.

184 THE SONGS OF SELMA.

The death of Morar.

rain ; like thunder on distant hills. Many fell by
thy arm ; they were consumed in the flames of thy
wi-ath. But when thou didst return from war,
how peaceful was thy brow ! Thy face was like
the sun after rain : like the moon in the silence of
night : calm as the breast of the lake when the
loud wind is laid.

Narrow is thy dwelling now ! Daik the place
of thine abode ! With three steps I compass thy
grave, O thou who wast so great before ! Four
atones, with their heads of moss, are the only me-
morial of thee. A tree with scarce a leaf, long
grass, which whistles in the wind, maik to the
hunter's eye the grave of the mighty Morar.
Morar ! thou art low indeed. Thou hast no
mother to mourn thee ; no maid with her tears
of love. Dead is she that brought thee forth.
Fallen is the daughter of Morglan.

Who on his staff is this ? Who is this, whose
head is white with age ? whose eyes are red with
tears ? who quakes at every step? It is thy father,*
O Morar! the father of no son but thee. He
heard of thy fame in war; he heard of foes dispersed.
He heard of Morar's renown ; why did he not heai*
of his wound ? Weep, thou father of Morar !
weep ; but thy son heareth thee not. Deep is the
sleep of the dead ; low their pillow of dust. No
more shall he hear thy voice ; no more awake at

• Torinan, the son of Carahul, lord of 1-mora, one of the wtbteni
isles.

THE SONGS OF SELMA. I85

The story of Armar aiid Daura.

thy call. When shall it be morn in the grave, to
bid the slumberer awake ? Farewell, thou bravest
of men ! thou conqueror in the field ! But the
field shall see thee no more ; nor the dark wood
be lightened with the splendom* of thy steel. Thou
hast left no son. The song shall preserve thy
name. Future times shall hear of thee ; they shall
hear of fallen Morar !

The grief of all arose, but most the bursting sigh
of Armin.* He remembers the death of his son,
who fell in the days of his youth. Carmor -f was
near the hero, the chief of the echoing Galmal.
Why bursts the sigh of Armin ? he said. Is there
a cause to mourn? The song comes, with its
music, to melt and please the souK It is like soft
mist, that, rising from a lake, pours on the silent
vale; the green flowers are filled with dew; but the
sun returns in his strength, and the mist is gone.
Why art thou sad, O Armin ! chief of sea-
suiTounded Gorma ?

Sad I am ! nor small is my cause of wo ! Car-
mor, thou hast lost no son, thou hast lost no daugh-
ter of beauty. Colgar the valiant lives ; and An-
nira, fairest maid. The boughs of thy house ascend,
O Carmor! but Armin is the last of his race.
Dark is thy bed, O Daura ! deep thy sleep in the

• Armin, a hero. He was chief or petty king of Gonna, i. e- the
blue island, supposed to be one of the Hebrides.
t Ccar-mor, a tall dark-cotnplcxiomd man.
Q 2

186 THE SONGS OF SELMA.

The story of Armar and Daura continued.

tomb ! When shalt thou awake with thy songs ?
with all tliy voice of music ?

Arise, winds of autumn, arise ; blow along the
heath! Streams of the mountains, roar! Roar,
tempests, in the groves of my oaks ! Walk through
broken clouds, O moon ! show thy pale face at
intervals ! Bring to my mind the night when all
my children fell ; when Arindal the mighty fell ;
when Daura the lovely failed ! Dam-a, my daugh-
ter ! thou wert fair ; fair as the moon on Fura ;*
white as the driven snow ; sweet as the breathing
gale. Arindal, thy bow was strong. Thy spear
Avas swift in the field. Thy look was like mist on
the wave: thy shield, a red cloud in a storm.
Armar, renowned in war, came, and sought Dau-
ra's love. He was not long refused ; fair was the
hope of their fi-iends !

Erath, son of Odgal, repined : his brother had
been slain by Armar. He came, disguised like a
son of the sea : fair was his skift' on the wave ;
white his locks of age ; calm his serious brow.
Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Ar-
min ! a rock not distant in the sea bears a tree on
its side ; red shines the fruit afar ! There Armar
waits for Daura. I come to cany his love ! She
went ; she called on Armai*. Nought answered, but
the son t of the rock. Armar, my love ! my love !

* Fuar-a, cold island.

\ By the son of the rock, the poet means the echoing back of the hu-
man voice from a rock. The vulgar were of opinion that this rcpe-

THE SONGS OF SELMA. 187

The story of Armar and Daura concluded.

why tormentest thou me with fear ? Hear, son
of Armar, hear : it is Dam-a who calleth thee !
Erath the traitor fled laughing to the land. She
lifted up her voice ; she called for her brother and
her father. Arindal ! Armin ! none to relieve your
Daura!

Her voice came over the sea. Arindal, my
son, descended fi'om the hill ; rough in the spoils
of the chase. His aiiows rattled by his side ; his
bow was in his hand : five dark-gray dogs attend
his steps. He saw fierce Erath on the shore : he
seized and bound him to an oak. Thick ^dnd the
thongs * of the hide around his limbs ; he loads
the wind with his groans. Arindal ascends the
deep in his boat, to bring Daura to land. Armar
came in his wrath, and let fly the gray-feathered
shaft. It sung ; it sunk in thy heart, O Arindal,
my son ! For Erath, the traitor, thou diedst.
The oar is stopped at once ; he panted on the
rock and expired. WTiat is thy grief, O Daura,
when round thy feet is poured thy brother's blood !
The boat is broken in twain. Armar plunges in-
to the sea to rescue his Daura, or die. Sudden a
blast from the hill came over the waves. He sunk,
and he rose no more.

Alone, on the sea-beat rock, my daughter was

tition of sound was made by a spirit within the rock; and they, on
that account, called it mactalla ; the son who dwelis in the rock.

* The poet here only means, that Erath was bound with leather
Uiongs.

188 THE SONGS OF SELMA.

Ossian's soliloquy.

heard to complain. Frequent and loud Avere her
cries. What could her father do? All night I
stood on the shore. I saw her by the faint beam
of the moon. All night I heard her cries. Loud

was the wind ; the rain beat hard on the hill

Before morning appeared, her voice was weak. It
died away, like the evening breeze among the grass
of the rocks. Spent with grief she expired ; and
left thee, Armin, alone. Gone is my strength in
war ! fallen my pride among women ! When the
storms aloft arise ; when the north lifts the wave
on high ; I sit by the sounding shore, and look on
the fatal rock. Often by the setting moon, I see
the ghosts of my children. Half-viewless, they
walk in mournful conference together. W^ill none
of you speak, in pity ? They do not regard their
father. I am sad, O Carmor ! nor small is my
cause of wo !

Such were the words of the bards in the days of
song ; when the king heard the music of harps, the
tales of other times ! The chiefs gathered from all
their hills, and heard the lovely sound. They
praised the voice * of Cona ! the first among a
thousand bards ! But age is now on my tong»ie :
my soul has failed ! I hear, at times, the ghosts
of bards, and learn their pleasant song. But memo-
ry fails on my mind. I hear the call of years. They
say, as they pass along, why does Ossian sing?
Soon shall he lie in the narrow house, and no bard

• Ossian is sometimes poetically called the voics of Cona.

THE SONGS OF SELMA. 189

shall raise his fame ! Roll on, ye dark-brown
years ; ye hnng no joy on your course : let the
tomb open to Ossian, for his strength has failed.
The sons of song are gone to rest. My voice re-
mains like a blast, that roars lonely, on a sea-
sunounded rock, after the winds are laid. The
dark moss whistles there ; the distant mariner sees
the waving trees !

FINGAL:

^n Ancient (ifpic poem.

BOOK FIRST.

ARGUMENT.

Cuthullin (general of the Irish tribes, in the minority ofCor-
mac, king of Ireland ) sitting alone beneath a tree, at the
gate of Tura, a castle of Ulster (the other chiefs having
gone on a hunting party to Cromla, a neighbouring hill) is
informed of the landing of Swaran, king of Lochlin, by
Moran, the son ofFithil, one of his scouts. He convenes
the chiefs ; a council is held, and disputes run high about
giving battle to the enemy. Connal, the petty king of To-
gorma, and an intimate friend of Cuthullin, teas for re-
treating, till Fingal, king of those Caledonians who inhabit-
ed the north--west coast of Scotland, whose aid had been
previously solicited, should arrive ; but Calmar, the son of
Matha, lord of Lara, a county in Connaught, was for en-
gaging the enemy immediately. Cuthullin, ofhimsclf will-
ing to fight, went into the opinion of Calmar. Marching
towards the enemy, he missed three of his bravest heroes.,
Fergus, Duchomar, and Cathba. Fergus arriving, tells
Cuthullin of the death of the two other chiefs ; which intro-
duces the affecting episode of Morna, the daughter of Cor-
mac. The army of Cuthullin is descried at a distance by
Swaran, who sent the son of Arno to observe the nwtions of
the enemy, while he himself ranged his forces in order of
battle. The son of Arno rettirning to Swaran, describes to
him Cuthullin'' s chariot, and the terrible appearance of that
hero. The armies engage, but night coming on, leaves the
victory undecided. Cuthullin, according to the hospitality
of the times, sends to Swaran a formal invitation to a feast,
by his bard Carril, the son ofKinfena. Swaran refuses to
come. Carril relates to Cuthullin the story ofGrudar and
Brassolis. A party, by ConnaVs advice, is sent to observe
the enemy ; which closes the action of the day.

FINGAL.

BOOK FIRST.

CuTHULLiN * sat by Turns wall; by the tree
of the rustling sound. His spear leaned against a
rock. His shield lay on grass, by his side. Amid
his thoughts of mighty Cairbar, -f a hero slain by
the chief in war, the scout :|: of ocean comes. Mo-
ran the son of Fithil !

• Cuthullin, the son of Semo, and grandson to Caithbait, a Druid
celebrated in tradition for his wisdom and valour. Cuthullin, when
very young, married Bragela, the daughter of Sorglan, and passing
over into Ireland, lived for some time with Connal, grandson by a
daughter to Congal, the petty king of Ulster. His wisdom and valour
in a short time gained him such reputation, that, in the minority of
Cormac, the supreme king of Ireland, he was chosen guardian to the
young king, and sole manager of the war against Swaran, king of
Lochlin. After a series of great actions, he was killed in battle some-
where in Connaught, in the twenty-seventh year of his age. He was
so remarkable for his strength, that, to describe a strong man, it has
passed into a proverb, " He has the strength of Cuthullin." They
show the remains of his palace at Dunscaith, in the isle of Sky; and
a stone to which he bound his dog Luath goes still by his name.

t Cairbar, or Cairbre, signifies a strongman.

X Cuthullin ha\-ing previous intelligence of the invasion intended
by Swaran, sent scouts all over the coast of Ullin, or Ulster, to give
VOL. I. R

194 FINGAL,

CuthuUin»s scout desciibes the appearance of Swaran.

" Arise," says the youth, " Cuthullin, arise, I
see the ships of the north ! Many, chief of men,
are the foe. Many the heroes of the sea-borne
Swaran !" — " Moran !"* replied the blue-eyed chief,
" thou ever tremblest, son of Fithil ! Thy fears
have increased the foe. It is Fingal, f king of
deserts, with aid to green Erin of streams." — " I
beheld their chief," says Moran, " tall as a glitter-
ing rock. His spear is a blasted pine. His shield,
the rising moon ! He sat on the shore, like a
cloud of mist on the silent hill ! Many, cliief of
heroes ! I said, many are our hands of war. Well
art thou named, the mighty Man ; but many mighty
men are seen from Tura's windy walls."

He spoke, like a wave on a rock, " who in this
land appears like me ? Heroes stand not in my

early notice of the first appearance of the enemy, at the same time that
he sent Munan, the son of Stirmal, to implore the assistance of Fingal.
He himself collected the flower of the Irish youth to Tura,acastleon
the coast, to stop the progress of the enemy till Fingal should arrive
from Scotland. We may conclude, from Cuthullin's applying so early
for foreign aid, that the Irish were not then so numerous as they
have since been ; which is a great presumption against the high anti-
quity of that people. We have the testimony of Tacitus, that one
legion only was thought sufficient, in the time of Agricola, to reduce
the whole island under the Roman yoke; which would not probably
have been the case, had the island been inhalnted for any numtter of
centuries before.

» Moran signifies mani/ ; and Fithil, or rather Fili, an itiferior
bard.

t Fingal, the son of Comhal, and Morna, the daughter of Thaddu.
His grandfather was Trathal, and great-grandfather Trenmor, both of
whom are often mentioned in the (K)em.

AN EPIC POEM. 195

Cnthullin summons his heroes to meet Swaran.

presence : they fall to earth from my hand. Who
can meet Swaran in fight ? Who but Fingal, king
of Selraa of storms ? Once we wrestled on Mal-
mor ; * our heels overturned the woods. Rocks
fell from their place; rivulets, changing their course,
fled, murmuiing, from our side. Three days we
renewed the strife ; heroes stood at a distance, and
trembled. On the fourth, Fingal says that the king
of the ocean fell ! But Swaran says, he stood !
Let dark Cuthullin yield to him, that is strong as
the storms of his land !"

" No !" repUed the blue-eyed chief, " I never
j-ield to mortal man ! Dark Cuthullin shall be
great, or dead ! Go, son of Fithil, take my spear.
Strike the sounding shield of Semo.f It hangs at
Tura's rustling gate. The sound of peace is not
its voice ! My heroes shall hear and obey." He
went. He struck the bossy shield. The hills, the
rocks reply. The sound spreads along the wood :
deer start by the lake of roes. Currach :{: leaps
from the sounding rock ; and Connal of the bloody
spear! Crugal's || breast of snow beats high. The
son of Favi leaves the dark-broAvn hind. It is the

« Meal-mor, a great hill.

t Cabait, or rather Caithbait, grandfather to the hero, was so re-
markable for his valour, that his shield was made use of to alarm his
posterity to the battles of the family. We find Fingal making the same
use of his own shield in the fourth book. A horn was the most com-
mon instrument to call the army together.

X Cu-raoch, signifies the madness of battle.

II Crath-gca\, fair-compleiioned.

196 FINGAL,

Appearance of the army of Cuthullin described.

shield of war, said Ronnal the spear of Cuthullin,
said Lugar ! son of the sea put on thy arms ! Cal-
mar, lift thy sounding steel ! Puno ! dreadful
hero, arise ! Cairbar, from thy red tree of Crom-
la ! Bend thy knee, O Eth ! descend from the
streams of Lena. Ca-olt ! stretch thy side as thou
movest along the whistling heath of Mora: thy
side that is white as the foam of the troubled sea,
when the dark winds pour it on rocky Cuthon.*

Now I behold the chiefs, in the pride of their
former deeds ! their souls are kindled at the battles
of old ; at the actions of other times. Their eyes
are flames of fire. They roll in search of the foes
of the land. Then- mighty hands are on their
swords. Lightning pours from their sides of steel.
They come like streams from the mountains ; each
rushes roaring from his hill. Bright are the chiefs
of battle, in the armour of their fathers. Gloomy
and dark, their heroes follow, hke the gathering of
the rainy clouds behind the red meteors of heaven.
The sounds of crashing arms ascend. The gray
dogs howl between. Unequal bursts the song of
battle. Rocking Cromla f echoes round. On
Lena's dusky heath they stand, like mist that shades
the hills of autumn ; when, broken and dark, it
settles high, and lifts its head to heaven !

" Hail," said Cuthullin, " sons of the nan-ow

* Cu-thon, the mournful sound of waves.

t Crom-leach signified a place of worship among the Druids. It is
here the proper name of a hill on the coast of Ullin or Ulster.

AN EPIC POEM. 197

Cuthullin calls a council of war.

vales ! hail, hunters of the deer ! Another sport
is drawing near : it is like the dark rolling of that
wave on the coast ! Or shall we fight, ye sons of
war ! or yield green Erin * to Lochlin ! O Con-
nal, f speak, thou first of men ! thou breaker of
the shields ! thou hast often fought with Lochlin :
wilt thou lift thy father's spear ?"

" Cuthullin !" calm, the chief replied, " the spear
of Connal is keen. It delights to shine in battle ;
to mix with the blood of thousands. But though
my hand is bent on fight, my heart is for the peace
of Erin.:}^ Behold ! thou first in Corma's war ! the
sable fleet of Swaran. His masts are many on our
coast, like reeds in the lake of Lego. His ships
are forests clothed with mist, when trees yield by
turns to the squally wind. Many are his chiefs in
battle. Connal is for peace ! Fingal would shun

« Ireland, so called from a colony that settled there, called Fallans.
Inis-fail, the island of the Fail or Fallans.

i Connal, the friend of Cuthullin, was the son of Caithbait, prince
of the Tongorma, or the istand of blue waves, probably one of the Heb-
rides. His mother was Fioncoma, the daughter of Congal. He had a
son by Foba of Cona-charnessar, who was afterwards petty king of Ul-
ster. For his services in the war against Swaran he had lands con-
ferred on him, which, from his name, were called Tir-chonnuil, or
Tir-connel, i. e. the land of Connal.

X Erin, a name of Ireland ; from ear or iar^ W^est, and in an is-
land. This name was not always confined to Ireland, for there is the
highest probability that the lerne of the ancients was Britain to the
north of the Forth. For lerne is said to be to the north of Britain,
which could not be meant of Ireland. Strabo, 1. 2. tk 4. Casaub.,
1. I.

r2

198 FINGAL,

Disputes among the generals of Cuthullin.

his arm, the first of mortal men ! Fingal, who scat-
ters the mighty, as stormy winds the heath ; when
streams roar through echoing Cona, and night set-
tles with all her clouds on the hill !"

" Fly ! thou man of peace !" said Calmar, *
"fly!" said the son of Matha; " go, Connal, to
thy silent hills, where the spear never brightens in
war! Pursue the dark-brown deer of Cromla:
stop with thine an'ows the bounding roes of Lena.
But, blue-eyed son of Semo, Cuthullin, ruler of the
field, scatter thou the sons of Lochlin;f roar through
the ranks of their pride. Let no vessel of the king-
dom of snow bound on the dark-rolling waves of
Inistore.;}: Rise, ye dark winds of Erin, rise !
roar, whirlwinds of Lara of hinds! Amid the
tempest let me die, torn, in a cloud, by angry
ghosts of men ; amid the tempest let Calmar die,
if ever chace was sport to him, so much as the
battle of shields !"

" Calmar !" Connal slow replied, " I never fled,
young son of Matha ! I was swift with my fi-iends
in fight; but small is the fame of ConnaJ! The
battle was won in my presence ; the vaUant over-
came ! But, son of Semo, hear my voice, regard
the ancient throne of Cormac. Give wealth and
half the land for peace, till Fingal shall anive on
our coast. Or, if war be thy choice, I lift the

* Calm-cr, a strong man-

t The Gaelic name of Scandinavia ii

t The Orkney Islands.

AN EPIC POEM. 199

Disputes among the generals of Cuthullin.

sword and spear. My joy shall be in the midst of
thousands ; my soul shall lighten through the gloom
of the fight !"

" To me," Cuthullin replies, " pleasant is the
noise of amis ! pleasant as the thunder of heaven
before the shower of spring ! But gather all the
shining tribes, that I may view the sons of war !
Let them pass along the heath, bright as the sun-
shine before a storm ; when the west wind collects
the clouds, and Morven echoes over all her oaks !
But where are my friends in battle ? the suppor-
ters of my aim in danger? Where art thou,
white-bosomed Cathba ? Where is that cloud in
war, Duchomar?* Hast thou left me, O Fer-
gus !-f- in the day of the storm ! Fergus, first in
our joy at the feast ! son of Rossa ! arm of death !
comest thou like a roe from Malmor ? like a hart
from thy echoing hills ? Hail, thou son of Rossa !
what shades the soul of war ?"

" Four stones," | replied the chief, " rise on
the grave of Cathba. These hands have laid in

• Duchomar, a black well-made man.

t Fear-guth, the man of the word; or a commander of an army.

+ This passage alludes to the manner of burial among the ancient
Scots. They opened a grave six or eight feet deep : the bottom was
lined with fine clay : and on this they laid the body of the deceased,
and if a wanior, his sword, and the heads of twelve arrows by his side.
Above they laid another stratum of clay, in which they placed the
horn of a deer, the symbol of hunting. The whole was covered with
a fine mould, and four stones placed on end to mark the extent of the
j^ravc. These are the four stones alluded to here.

200 FINGAL,

Death of Duchomar and Cathba.

earth Duchomar, that cloud in war ! Cathba, son
of Torman ! thou wert a sunbeam in Erin. And
thou, O valiant Duchomar ! a mist of the marshy
Lano ; when it moves on the plains of autumn,
bearing the death of thousands along. Moma!
fairest of maids ! calm is thy sleep in the cave of
the rock ! thou hast fallen in darkness, like a star
that shoots across the desert ! when the traveller
is alone, and mourns the transient beam !"

" Say," said Semo's blue-eyed son, " say, how
fell the chiefs of Erin? Fell they by the sons of
Lochlin, striving in the battle of heroes ? Or what
conj&nes the strong in arms to the dark and narrow
house ?"

" Cathba," replied the hero, " fell by the sword
of Duchomar, at the oak of the noisy streams.
Duchomar came to Tura's cave ; he spoke to the
lovely Moma. Moma, * ftiirest among women,
lovely daughter of strong-armed Cormac. Why
in the circle of stones, in the cave of the rock,
alone? The stream murmurs along. The old
tree groans in the wind. The lake is troubled be-
fore thee : dark are the clouds of the sky ! But
thou art snow on the heath : thy hair is the mist
of Cromla ; when it curls on the hill ; when it
shines to the beam of the west ! Thy breasts are
two smooth rocks seen from Branno of streams.
Thy arms, like two white pillars, in the halls of the
great Fingal."

» Muirne, or Moma, a tooman beloved by all'

AN EPIC POEM. 201

Death of the beautiful Moma.

" From whence," the fair-haired maid replied,
" from whence, Duchomar, most gloomy of men ?
Dark are thy brows, and terrible ! Red are thy
rolling eyes ! Does Swaran appear on the sea ?
What of the foe, Duchomar ?" — " From the hill I
return, O Moma ! from the hill of the dark -brown
hinds. Three have I slain with my bended yew.
Thiee "wath my long bounding dogs of the chase.
Lovely daughter of Cormac, I love thee as my
soul ! I have slain one stately deer for thee.
High was his branchy head ; and fleet his feet of
wind." — " Duchomar !" calm the maid replied,
" I love thee not, thou gloomy man ! hard is thy
heart of rock ; dark is thy tenible brow. But
Cathba, yoimg son of Torman,* thou art the love
of Moma. Thou ai-t a sunbeam, in the day of the
gloomy storm. Sawest thou the son of Torman,
lovely on the hill of his hinds ? Here the daugh-
ter of Cormac waits the coming of Cathba !"

" Long shall Moma wait," Duchomar said,
" long shall Moma wait for Cathba ! Behold this
sword unsheathed ! Here wanders the blood of
Cathba. Long shall Moma wait. He fell by the
stream of Branno ! On Cromla I will raise his
tomb, daughter of blue-shielded Cormac ! Turn
on Duchomar thine eyes ; his arm is strong as a
storm." — " Is the son of Toraian fallen ?" said the
mldly bursting voice of the maid. " Is he fallen on

* Torman, thunder' This is the true origin of the Jupiter Taramis
of the ancients.

202 FINGAL,

Death of the beautiful Moma.

his echoing hills, the youth with the breast of
snow ? the first in the chase of hinds ? the foe of
the strangers of ocean ? Thou art dark * to me,
Duchomar ; cruel is thine arm to Moma ! Give
me that sword, my foe! I love the wandering
blood of Cathba !"

He gave the sword to her tears. She pierced
his manly breast ! He fell, like the bank of a
mountain-stream, and stretching forth his hand, he
spoke: " Daughter of blue-shielded Cormac! thou
hast slain me in youth ! The sword is cold in my
breast : Moma, I feel it cold. Give me to Moina f
the maid. Duchomar was the dream of her night !
She will raise my tomb ; the hunter shall raise my
fame. But draw the sword from my breast.
Moma, the steel is cold ! " She came ; in all her
tears she came. She drew the sword from his
breast. He pierced her white side ! He spread
her fair locks on the ground ! Her bursting blood
sounds from her side : her white arm is stained
with red. Rolling in death she lay. The cave
re-echoed to her sighs.

" Peace," said Cuthullin, " to the souls of the
heroes ! their deeds were great in fight. Let
them ride around :{: me on clouds. Let them

* She alludes to his name, the dark num.

t Moina, soft in temper and person.

% It was the opinion then, as indeed it is to thi« day, of some of the
Highlanders, that the souls of the deceased hovered round their living
friends ; and sometimes appeared to them when they were about to en-
ter on any great undertaking.

AN EPIC POEM. 203

Ciilhullin ptepaies to engage the army of Swaran.

show their features of war. My soul shall then
be firm in danger; mine arm like the thunder
of heaven : but be thou on a moon-beam, O
Moma! near the window of my rest; when my
thoughts are of peace ; when the din of arms is past.
Gather the strength of the tribes ! Move to the
wars of Erin ! Attend the car of my battles ! Re-
joice in the noise of my course ! Place three
spears by my side : follow the bounding of my
steeds ! That my soul may be strong in my
friends, when battle darkens round the beams of
my steel ! "

As rushes a stream of foam from the dark shady
steep of Cromla ; when the thunder is travelling
above, and dark-brown night sits on half the hill.
Through the breaches of the tempest look forth
the dim faces of ghosts. So fierce, so vast, so ter-
rible rushed on the sons of Erin. The chief, hke
a whale of ocean, whom all his billows pursue,
poured valour forth as a stream, rolling his might
along the shore. The sons of Lochhn heard the
noise, as the sound of a %vinter storm. Swaran
struck his bossy shield : he called the son of Arno.
" What murmur rolls along the hill, like the ga-
thered flies of the eve ? The sons of Erin de-
scend, or nistling winds roar in the distant wood !
Such is the noise of Gormal, before the white tops
of my waves arise. O son of Arno, ascend the
hill ; view the dark face of the heath \"

He went. He, trembling, swift returned. His
eyes rolled wildly round. His heart beat high

204. FINGAL,

The appearance of the chariot and horses of CuthuUin descrilied.

against his side. His words were faultering, bro-
ken, slow. " Arise, son of ocean, arise, chief of
the dark-brown shields ! I see the dark, the
mountain-stream of battle ! The deep-moving
strength of the sons of Erin ! The car, the car of
war comes on, like the flame of death ; the rapid
car of Cuthullin, the noble son of Semo ! It bends
behind, like a wave near a rock ; Uke the sun-
streaked mist of the heath. Its sides are embos-
sed with stones, and sparkle Uke the sea round the
boat of night. Of polished yew is its beam ; its
seat of the smoothest bone. The sides are re-
plenished with spears ; the bottom is the footstool
of heroes ! Before the right side of the car is seen
the snorting horse ! The high-maned, broad-
breasted, proud, wide-leaping, strong steed of the
hill. Loud and resoimding is his hoof ; the spread-
ing of his mane above is like a stream of smoke on
a ridge of rocks. Bright are the sides of the steed !
liis name is Sulin-Sifadda."

" Before the left side of the car is seen the
snorting horse ! The thin-maned, high-headed,
strong-hoofed, fleet, bomiding son of the hill, his
name is Dusromial, among the stormy sons of the
sword ! A thousand thongs bind the car on high.
Hard polished bits sliine in a wreath of foam.
Thin thongs, bright-studded Avith gems, bend on
the stately necks of the steeds — the steeds that
like wreaths of mist fly over the streamy vales !
The wildness of deer is in their course, the strength
of eagles descending on the prey. Their noise is

AN EPIC POEM. 205

The appearance of CuthuUin described.

like the blast of winter, on the sides of the snow-
headed Gormal.

" Within tlie car is seen the chief, the strojig-
arnied son of the sword. The hero's name is Cu-
thuUin, son of Semo, king of shells. His red cheek
is like my polished yew. The look of his blue
rolling eye is wide, beneath the dark arch of his
brow. His hair flies from his head like a flame,
as bending forward he wields the speai*. Fly !
king of ocean, fly ! He comes, like a stoi-m, along
the streamy vale !"

" \Mien did I fly ?" replied the king, "when
fled Swaran from the battle of spears? When
did I shrink from danger, chief of the little soul ?
I met the storm of Gormal, when the foam of my
waves beat high. I met the storm of the clouds ;
shall Swai-an fly from a hero? Were Fingal
himself before me, my soul should not darken with
feai-. Arise to battle my thousands ! pour roimd
me, like the echoing main. Gather round the
bright steel of your king, strong as the rocks of my
land, that meet the storm with joy, and stretch
their dark pines to the wind !"

Like autimin's dark storms, pouring from tAvo
echoing hills, towards each other approached the
heroes. Like two deep streams from high rocks
meeting, mixing, roaring on the plain ; loud, rough,
and dark in battle meet Lochlin and Inis-fail.
Chief mixes his strokes with chief, and man Avith
man ; steel, clanging, sounds on steel. Helmets
are cleft on high. Blood bursts and smokes

VOL. I. s

206 FINGAL,

around. Strings murmur on the polished yews.
Darts rush along the sky. Spears fall like the
circles of light, which gild the face of night. As
the noise of the troubled ocean, when roll the
waves on high. As the last peal of thunder in
heaven, such is the din of war ! Though Cormac's
hundred bards were there, to give the fight to
song ; feeble was the voice of a hundred bards to
send the deaths to future times ! For many were
the deaths of heroes ; wide poured the blood of
the brave !

Mourn, ye sons of song, mourn the death of the
noble Sithallin.* Let the sighs of Fiona rise, on
the lone plains of her lovely Ardan. They fell,
like two hinds of the desert, by the hands of the
mighty Swaran ; when, in the midst of thousands,
he roared, like the shrill spirit of a storm. He
sits dim, on the clouds of the north, and enjoys
the death of the mariner. Nor slept thy hand by
thy side, chief of the isle of mist !f Many were
the deaths of thine arm, Cuthullin, thou son of
Semo ! His sword was like the beam of heaven
when it pierces the sons of the vale ; when the peo-
ple are blasted and fall, and all the hills are burn-
ing around. Dusronnal:|: snorted over the bodies of

*SithalUn signifies a handsome man; Fiona, a fair maid; and Ar-
dan, pride-

t The Isle of Sky ; not improperly called the isle of mist, as its high
hills, which catch the clouds from the western ocean, occasion almost
continual rains.

% One of Cuthullin'.s horse?. Dubhrstoii gca).

AN EPIC POEM. .^07

lieroes. Sifadda * bathed his hoof in blood. The
battle lay behind them, as groves overturned on the
deserts of Cromla ; when the blast has passed the
heath, laden with the spirits of night !

Weep on the rocks of roaiing winds, O maid
of Inistore !f Bend thy fair head over the waves,
thou lovelier than the ghost of the hills, when it
moves, in a sunbeam, at noon, over the silence of
Morven ! He is fallen ! thy youth is low ! pale
beneath the sword of Cuthullin. No more shall
valour raise thy love to match the blood of kings.
Trenar, graceful Trenar, died, O maid of Inistore !
His gray dogs are howling at home ; they see his
passing ghost. His bow is in the hall unstrung.
No sound is in the hill of his hinds !

As roll a thousand waves to the rocks, so Swa-
ran's host came on. As meets a rock a thousand
waves, so Erin met Swaran of spears. Death
raises all his voices around, and mixes with the
sounds of shields. Each hero is a pillar of dark-
ness ; the sword a beam of fire in his hand. The

* Sith'fadda, i. e. a long stride-

t T/ie maid qf Inistore v/as the daughter of Gorlo, king of Inistore*
or Orkney island*. Trenar was brother to the king of Iniscon, supposed
to be one of the islands of Shetland. The Orkneys and Shetland" were
at that time subject to the king of Lochlin. We find that the dogs of
Trenar are sensible at home of the death of their master the very in-
stant he is killed. It was the opinion of the times, that th,e souls of h e-
roes went immediately after death to hills of their country, and the
scenes they frequented the most happy time of their life. It was
thought too that dogs and horses saw the ghosts of the deceased.

208 FINGAL,

field echoes from wing to wing, as a hundred ham-
mers that rise, by turns, on the red son of the fur-
nace. Who are these on Lena's heath, these so
gloomy and dark ? Who are these Uke two clouds,
and their swords like lightning above them ? The
little hills are troubled around ; the rocks tremble
with all their moss. Who is it but Ocean's son,
and the car-borne chief of Erm ! Many are the
anxious eyes of their friends, as they see them dim
on the heath. But night conceals the chiefs in
clouds, and ends the dreadful fight !

It was on Cromla's shaggy side that Dorglas had
placed the deer ; * the early fortune of the chase,
before the heroes left the hill. A hundred youths
collect the heath ; ten warriors wake the fire ; three
hundred chuse the poHshed stones. The feast is
smoking wide ! CuthuUin, chief of Erin's war, re-
sumed his mighty soul. He stood upon his beamy
spear, and spoke to the son of songs : to Carril
of other times, the gray-haired son of Kinfena. f
" Is this feast spread for me alone, and the king of

• The ancient manner of preparing feasts after hunting is hand-
ed down by tradition. A pit, lined with smooth stones, was made ;
and near it stood a heap of smooth flat stones of the flint kind. The
stones, as well as the pit, were ])roperly heated with heath. Then
they laid some venison in the bottom, and a stratum of the stones above
it ; and thus they did alternately till the pit was full. The whole was
covered over with heath to confine the steam. Whether this is proba-
ble, I cannot say ; but some pits arc shown, which the vulgar say were
used in that manner.

t Ccan-feana, «. c. the head of the people

AN EPIC POEM. 209

Cuthullin invhesSwaran to the feast.

Lochlin on Erin's shore ; far from the deer of his
hills, and sounding halls of his feasts ? Rise, Canil
of other times ; carry my words to Swaran. Tell
him from the roaring of waters, that Cuthullin gives
his feast. Here let him listen to the sound of my
groves, amidst the clouds of night. For cold and
l)leak the blustering winds rush over the foam of
his seas. Here let him praise the trembling harp,
and hear the songs of heroes !"

Old Carril went, with softest voice. He called
the king of dark-brown shields. " Rise from the
skins of thy chase, rise, Swaran, king of groves !
Cuthullin gives the joy of shells. Partake the
feast of Erin's blue-eyed chief!" He answered,
like the sullen sound of Cromla before a storai.
" Though all thy daughters, Inis-fail! should stretch
their arms of snow ; should raise the heavings of
their breasts, and softly roll their eyes of love; yet,
fixed as Lochlin's thousand rocks, here Swaran
should remain ; till morn, with the young beams
of the east, shall light me to the death of Cuthullin.
Pleasant to my ears is Lochlin's wind ! it rushes
over my seas ! It speaks aloft in all my shrouds,
and brings my green forests to my mind: the green
forests of Gornial, which often echoed to my winds,
when my spear was red in the chase of the boar.
Let dark Cuthullin yield to me the ancient throne
of Cormac; or Erin's torrents shall show fi-om their
liills the red foam of the blood of his pride !"

" Sad is the sound of Swaran's voice," said
Canil of other times. " Sad to himself alone!"
s 2

210 FINGAL,

Carril relates the story of Gnidar and Cairbar.

said the blue-eyed son of Semo. " But, Caml,
raise the voice on high ; tell the deeds of other
times. Send thou the night aAvay in song: and
give the joy of gi-ief. For many heroes and maids
of love have moved on Inisfail. And lovely are
the songs of wo that are heard in Albion's rocks ;
when the noise of the chase is past, and the streams
of Cona answer to the voice of Ossian."*

" In other days," f Caml replies, " came the
sons of Ocean to Erin. A thousand vessels
bounded on waves to Ullin's lovely plains. The
sons of Inis-fail arose, to meet the race of dark-
brown shields. Cairbar, first of men, was tliere,
and Grudar, stately youth ! Long had they strove
for the spotted bull, that lowed on Golbun's;}: echo-
ing heath. Each claimed him as his own. Death
was often at the point of their steel ! Side by side
the heroes fought ; the strangers of Ocean fled.
Whose name was fairer on the liill, than the name
of Cairbar and Grudar ! But ah! why ever lowed
the bull, on Golbun's echoing heath ? They saw

• The Cona here mentioned is that small river that runs through
Glenco, in Argyllshire. One of the hills which environ that romantic
valley is still called Tornafena, or the hill of Fingal's people.

t This episode is introduced with propriety. Calmar and Connal,
two of the Irish heroes, had disputed warmly before the battle about
engaging the enemy. Carril endeavours to reconcile them with the
story of Cairbar and Grudar ; who, though enemies before, fought
side by side in the war. The poet obtained his aim, for we find Calma'
and Connal perfectly reconciled in the third book.

j Golb-bhcan, as well as Cromlcach, signifies a crooked bill.

AN EPIC POEM. 211

Death of Gnidar and Brassolis.

him leaping like snow. The ^^Tath of the chiefs
returned.

" OnLubar's* grassy banks they fought ; Grudar
fell in his blood. Fierce Cairbar came to the vale,
where Brassolis, t fairest of his sisters, all alone
raised the song of grief. She sung of the actions
of Grudar, the youth of her secret soul ! She
mourned him in the field of blood, but still she
hoped for his return. Her white bosom is seen
from her robe, as the moon from the clouds of night,
when its edge heaves white on the view, from the
darkness which covers its orb. Her voice was
softer than the harp to raise the song of grief. Her
soul was fixed on Grudar. The secret look of her
eye was his. ' Wlien shalt thou come in thine
arms, thou mighty in the war ? '

" ' Take, Brassolis,' Caiibar came and said,
* take, Brassolis, this shield of blood. Fix it on
high within my hall, the armour of my foe !' Her
soft heart beat against her side. Distracted, pale,
she flew. She found her youth in all his blood ;
she died on Cromla's heath. Here rests their dust,
CuthuUin ! these lonely yews sprung from their
tombs, and shade them from the storm. Fair was
Brassolis on the plain ! Stately was Grudar on
the hill ! The bard shall preserve their names,
and send them do\^Ti to future times !"

• Lubar, a river in Ulster. Lahhar, loud, noisy,
t Brassolis signifies a woman tvitfi a ivhite breaM.

212 FINGAL,

Connal advises CuthuUiii to make peace till Fingal arrives.

" Pleasant is thy voice, O Carril !" said the
blue-eyed chief of Erin. " Pleasant are the words
of other times ! They are like the calm shower
of spring, when the sun looks on the field, and the
light cloud flies over the hills. O strike the harp
in praise of my love, the lonely sunbeam of Dun-
scaith ! Strike the harp in the praise of Bragela ;
she that I left in the isle of Mist, the spouse of
Semo's son! Dost thou raise thy fair face from
the rock to find the sails of Cuthullin? The sea is
rolling distant far ; its white foam deceives thee for
my sails. Retire, for it is night, my love ; the dark
whids sing in thy hair. Retire to the halls of my
feasts ; think of the times that are past. I will not
return till the storm of war is ceased. O Connal !
speak of war and arms, and send her from my
mind. Lovely, with her flowing hair, is the white-
bosomed daughter of Sorglan."

Connal, slow to speak, replied, " Guard against
the race of Ocean. Send thy troop of night abroad,
and watch the strength of Swaran. Cuthullin ! I
am for peace till the race of Selma come ; till Fin-
gal come, the first of men, and beam, like the sun,
on our fields !" The hero struck the shield of
alarms, the wairiors of the night moved on. The
rest lay in the heath of the deer, and slept beneath
the dusky wind. The ghosts * of the lately dead

• It was long the opinion of the ancient Scots, that a ghost was heard
shrieking near the place where a death was to happen soon after. The
accounts given, to this day, among the vulgar, of this extraordinary

AN EPIC POEM. 213

Concliuionof Book First.

were near, and swam on the gloomy clouds : and
fai- distant, in the dark silence of Lena, the feeble
voices of death were faintly heard.

matter, are very poetical. The ghost comes, mounted on a meteor,
and suiroimds twice or thrice the place destined for the person to die ;
and thea goes along the road through which the funeral is to pass,
shrieking at intervals ; at last, the meteor and ghost disappear above the
burial place.

FINGAL.

BOOK SECOND

ARGUMENT.

The gliost of Crugal^ one of the Irish heroes who -was killed
in battle^ appearing to Connal^ foretells the defeat of Cu-
thullin in the next battle^ and earnestly advises him to make
peace with Swaran. Connal communicates the vision, but
Cuthullin is inflexible ; from a principle of honour he would
not be the first to sue for peace, and he resolved to continue
the war. Morning comes: Swaran proposes dishonourable
terms to Cuthullin, which are rejected. The battle begins,
and is obstinately fought for some time, until, upon the
flight of Grumal, the whole Irish army give way. Cu-
thullin and Connal cover their retreat : Carril leads them
to a neighbouring hill, whither they are soon followed by
Cuthullin himself, who descries the fleet of Fingal making
towards the coast ; but, night coming on, he lost sight of
it again. Cuthullin, dejected after his defeat, attributes
his ill success to the death of Ferda, his friend, whom he
had killed soinetime before. Carril, to show that ill success
did not always attend those who innocently killed their
friends, introduces the episode of Comal and Galbina.

FINGAL.

BOOK SECOND.

CoNNAL * lay by the sound of the mountain
stream, beneath the aged tree. A stone, with its
moss, supported his head. Shrill through the
heath of Lena, he heard the voice of night. At a
distance firom the heroes he lay ; the son of the
sword feared no foe ! The hero beheld, in his rest,
a dark-red stream of fire nishing do^\ai from the
hill. CiTigal sat upon the beam, a chief who fell in
fight. He fell by the hand of Swaran, striving in
the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of
the setting moon. His robes are of the clouds of
the hill. His eyes are two decaying flames. Dark
is the wound of his breast. " Crugal," said the
mighty Connal, " son of Dedgal, famed on the hill
of hinds ! \Vliy so pale and sad, thou breaker of
the shields ? Thou hast never been pale for fear !
What disturbs the departed Crugal ?" Dim, and
in tears, he stood, and stretched his pale hand over

t The scene here described will appear natural to those who have
been in the Highlands of Scotland. The poet removes him to a distance
from the army, to add more honor to the description of Crugal 's ghost
by the loneliness of the place.

VOL I. T

rdl8 FINGAL,

The ghost (if Crugal appears to Connal.

the hero. Faintly he raised his feeble voice, like
the gale of the reedy Lego !

" My spirit, Connal, is on my hills: my corse on
the sands of Erin. Thou shalt never talk with
Crugal, nor find his lone steps in the heath. I am
light as the blast of Crorala. I move like the sha-
dow of mist ! Connal, son of Colgar, I see a cloud
of death : it hovers dark over the plains of Lena.
The sons of green Erin must fall. Remove fiom
the field of ghosts." Like the darkened moon, he
retired, in the midst of the whistling blast. " Stay,"
said the mighty Connal, " stay, my dark-red friend.
Lay by that beam of heaven, son of the windy
Cromla! What cave is thy lonely house? What
green-headed hill the place of thy repose? Shall
we not hear thee in the storm ? In the noise of
the mountain-stream ? When the feeble sons of
the wind come forth, and, scarcely seen, pass over
the desert?"

The soft-voiced Connal rose, in the midst of his
sounding arms. He struck his shield above Cu-
thullin. The son of battle waked. " Why," said
the ruler of the car, " comes Connal through my
night : my spear might turn against the sound ; and
Cuthullin mourn the death of his fiiend. Speak,
Connal — son of Colgar, speak, thy counsel is the
sun of heaven ! " " Son of Semo ! " replied the
chief, " the gliost of Crugal came from his cave.
The stars dim-twinkled through his form. His
voice was like the sound of a distant stream. He
is a messenger of death ! He speaks of the dark

AN EPIC POEM. -219

CiithuUin bummons hU array to battle.

and nanow house ! Sue for peace, O chief of
Erin ! or fly over the heath of Lena."

" He spoke to Connal ! " replied tlie liero,
" though stars dim-twinkled througli his form !
Sou of Colgar, it was the wind that murmured
across thy ear. Or, if it was the form * of Crugal,
why didst thou not force him to my sight? Hast
thou inquired where is his cave ? The house of
that son of wind ? My sword might find that
voice, and force his knowledge ft-om Crugal. But
small is his knowledge, Connal ; he was here to-
day. He could not have gone heyond our hills !
who could tell him there of our fall ? " Ghosts
fly on clouds, and ride on winds," said Connal's
voice of msdom. " They rest together in their
caves, and talk of mortal men."

" Then let them talk of mortal men ; — of every
man hut Erin's chief. Let me he forgot in their
cave. I will not fly from Swaran ! If fall I must,
my tomb shall rise amidst the fame of future times.
The hunter shall shed a tear on my stone ; sorrow
shall dwell round the high-bosomed Bragela. I
fear not death ; to fly I fear ! Fingal has seen me
\-ictorious ! Thou dim phantom of the hill, show
thyself to me ! Come on thy beam of heaven,
show me my death in thine hand ; yet I will not

• The poet teaches us the opinions that prevailed in his time con-
cerning the state of separate souls. From Connal's expression, " That
the stars dim-twinkled through the form of Crugal," and Cuthullin's
reply, we may gather that they both thought the soul was material ;
something like the eidolon of the ancient Creeks.

220

fly, thou feeble son of the wind ! Go, son of
Colgar, strike the shield. It hanos between the
spears. Let my wamors rise to the sound in the
midst of the battles of Erin. Though Fingal delays
his coming, with the race of his stormy isles, we
shall fight, O Colgar's son! and die in the battle of
heroes."

The sound spreads wide. The heroes rise, like
the breaking of a blue-rolling wave. They stood
on the heath, like oaks with all then- branches
round them ; when they echo to the stream of frost,
and their withered leaves are rustling to the wind !
High Cromla's head of clouds is gray. Morning
trembles on the half-enlightened ocean. The blue
mist swims slowly by, and hides the sons of Inis-
fail!

" Rise ye," said the king of the dark-brown
shields, " ye that came from Lochlin's waves. The
sons of Erin have fled from our arms ; pursue them
oyer the plains of Lena; Morla, go to Cormac's
hall. Bid them yield to Swaran ; before his people
sink to the tomb; and silence spread over his isle."
They rose, rustling like a flock of seafowl, when
the waves expel them from the shore. Their sound
was like a thousand streams that meet in Cona's
vale, Avhen, after a stormy night, they turn their
dark eddies, beneath the pale light of the mora.

As the dark shades of autumn fly over the hills
of gi'ass : so gloomy, dark, successive, came the
chiefs of Lochlin's echoing woods. Tall as the
stag of Morven, moved, stately before them, the

AN EPIC POEM. 321

Cuthullin rejects Swaran's terms of pearo.

kinji^. His shining shield is on his side, Uke a flame
on the heath at night : when the Avorld is silent
and dark, and the traveller sees some ghost sporting
in the heam ! Dimly gleam the hills around, and
show indistinctly their oaks ! A blast from the
troubled ocean removed the settled mist. The
sons of Erin appear, like a ridge of rocks on the
coast ; Avhen mariners, on shores unknown, are
trembling at veering Annds !

" Go, Morla, go," said the king of Lochlin,
" offer peace to these ! Offer the terms we give
to kings, when nations bow doA\Ti to our swords.
Wlien the valiant are dead in war ; when virgins
weep on the field !" Tall Morla came, the son of
Swarth, and stately strode the youth along ! He
spoke to Erin's blue-eyed chief, among the lesser
heroes. " Take Swaran's peace," the warrior
spoke, " the peace he gives to kings, when nations
bow to his sword. Leave Erin's streamy plains to
us, and give thy spouse and dog. Thy spouse,
high-bosomed, heaving, fair ! Thy dog that over-
takes the wind ! Give these to prove the weakness
of thine arm ; live then beneath our power!"

" Tell Swaran, tell that heart of pride, Cuthullin
never yields. I give him the dark-rolling sea ; I
give his people graves in Erin. But never shall a
stranger have the pleasing sunbeam of my love.
No deer shall fly an Lochlin's hills before swift-
footed Luath." " Vain ruler of the car," said
Morla, " Avilt thou then fight the king ? The
king, whose ships of many groves could caiTy off
t2

222 FINGAL,

The second b

thine isle ! so little is thy gi'een-hilled Erin to him
who rules the stormy Avaves!" " In words I yield
to many, Morla. My sword shall yield to none.
Erin shall own the sway of Cormac, while Connal
and Cutliullin live ! O Connal, first of mighty
men ! thou hear'st the words of Morla. Shall thy
thoughts then he of peace, thou hreaker of the
shields ? Spirit of fallen Crugal ! Why didst
thou threaten us Avith death ? The naiTow house
shall receive me, in the midst of the light of re-
nov\ai. Exalt, ye sons of Erin, exalt the spear and
bend the bow : msh on the foe in darkness, as the
spirits of stormy nights !"

Then dismal, roaring, fierce, and deep, tlie gloom
of battle poured along : as mist that is rolled on a
valley, when storms invade the silent sunshine of
heaven. Cuthullin moves before in arms, Hke an
angry ghost before a cloud — when meteors inclose
liim with fire — when the dark Avinds are in his
hand. Carril, far on the heath, bids the horn of
battle sound. He raises the voice of song, and
pours his soul into the minds of the brave.

" Where," said the mouth of the song, " where
is the fallen Crugal ? He lies forgot on earth ; the
ball of shells * is silent. Sad is the spouse of Cru-
gal ! She is a stranger -|- in the hall of her giief.

• The ancient Scots, as well as the present Highlanders, drunk in
shells ; hence it is that we so often meet in the old poetry with the chief
Of shells, and the hall of shells.

t Crugal had married Degrena but a little time before the battle, con-
sequently she may with propriety be called a stranger in the hall of her
grief.

Ax\ EPIC POE3I. 223

The second battle.

But wlio is she, that, like a sun-beam, flies before
the ranks of tlie foe ? It is Degrena, * lovely fair,
the spouse of fallen Crugal. Her hair is on the
wind beliind. Her eye is red ; her voice is shrill.
Pale, empty is thy Crugal now ! His form is in
the cave of the hill. He comes to the ear of rest;
lie raises his feeble voice ; like the humming of the
mountain-bee ; like the collected flies of the eve !
But Degrena falls like a cloud of the morn ; the
sAvord of Lochlin is in her side. Caiibar, she is fallen,
the rising thought of thy youth. She is fallen, O
Cairbar, the thought of thy youthful hours !"

Fierce Cairbar heard the mournful sound. He
rushed along like ocean's whale. He saw the death
of his daughter : He roared in the midst of thou-
sands. His spear met a son of Lochlin ! battle
spreads fiom wing to wing ! As a hundred winds
in Lochlin's gi'oves ; as fire in the pines of a hun-
dred hills ; so loud, so ruinous, so vast the ranks
of men are hewn down. Cuthullin cut off heroes
like thistles ; Swaran wasted Erin. Curach fell by
his hand, Cairbar of the bossy shield ; Morglan
lies in lasting rest ; Ca-olt trembles as he dies !
His white breast is stained with blood ; his yellow
hair stretched m the dust of his native land ! He
often had spread the feast where he fell. He often
there had raised the voice of the haq) : when his
dogs leaped around for joy ; and the youths of the
chase prepared the bow !

* Deogrena signifies a aun-bcum.

224 FINGAL,

Cuthulliu and Cunnal btavely cover the army's retreat.

Still Swaran advanced, as a stream that bursts
from the desert. The little hills are rolled in its
course ; the rocks are half-sunk by its side ! But
Cuthullin stood before him, like a hill, that catches
the clouds of heaven. The winds contend on its
head of pines ; the hail rattles on its rocks. But,
firm in its stren^h, it stands, and shades the silent
vale of Cona! So Cuthullin shaded the sons of
Erin, and stood in the midst of thousands. Blood
rises like the fount of a rock, from panting heroes
around. But Erin falls on either wing, like snow in
the day of the sun.

" O sons of Erin," said Grumal, " Lochlin con-
quers on the field. Why strive we as reeds against
the wind ? Fly to the hill of dark-brown hinds."
He fled like the stag of Moi-ven; his spear is a
trembling beam of light behind him. Few fled with
Grumal, chief of the little soul: they fell in the
battle of heroes, on Lena's echoing heath. High
on his car, of many gems, the chief of Erin stood.
He slew a mighty son of Lochlin, and spoke, in
haste, to Connal. " O Connal, first of mortal men,
thou hast taught this arm of death ! Though Erin's
sons have fled, shall we not fight the foe ? Carril,
son of other times, carry my friends to that bushy
hill. Here, Connal, let us stand, like rocks, and
save our flying friends."

Connal mounts the car of gems. They stretch
their shields, like the darkened moon, the daughter
of the starry skies, when she moves, a dun circle,
through heaven, and dreadful change is expected

AN EPIC POEM. 225

telligence of Fingal>s approach.

by men. Sitlifadda panted up the hill, and Sron-
nal, haujrhty steed. Like waves behind a whale,
behhid them ruslied the foe. Now, on tlie risuig
side of Cromla stood Erin's few sad sons ; like a
grove through which the flame had rushed, hunied
on by the winds of the stormy night ; distant, with-
ered, dark they stand, with not a leaf to shake in
the gale.

Cuthullin stood beside an oak. He rolled his
red eye in silence, and heard the wind in his bushy
hau' : the scout of ocean came, Moran, the son of
Fithil. " The ships !"' he cried, " the ships of the
lonely isles ! Fingal comes, the first of men, the
breaker of the shields ! The waves foam before his
black prows! His masts with sails are like gioves
in clouds !" " Blow," said CuthulUn, " blow ye
winds that rush along my isle of mist. Come to
the death of thousands, O king of resounding Sel-
ma ! Thy sails, my friend, are to me the clouds of
tlie moniing ; thy ships the light of heaven ; and
thou thyself a pillar of fiie that beams on the world
by night. O Connal, first of men, how pleasing, in
grief, are our friends ! But the night is gathering
around ! ^^ here noAV are the ships of Fingal ?
Here let us pass the hours of darkness ; here wish
for the moon of heaven."

The winds come down on the woods. The tor-
rents rush from the rocks. Rain gathers round the
head of Cromla. The red stars tremble between
the flying clouds. Sad, by the side of a stream,
whose sound is echoed by a tree, sad by the side

226 FINGAL,

story of Daminan and Deugala.

of a stream the chief of Erin sits. Connal, son of
Colgar, is there, and Carril of other times. " Un-
happy is the hand of Cuthullin/' said the son of
Semo, " unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin, since he
slew his fi-iend ! Ferda, son of Damman, I loved
thee as myself!"

" How, Cuthullin, son of Semo ! how fell the
breaker of the sliields ? Well I remember," said
Connal, " the son of the noble Damman. Tall and
fair he was like the rainbow of heaven." " Ferda
from Albion came, the chief of a hundred hills. In
Muri's* hall he learned the sword, and won the
friendship of Cuthullin. We moved to the chase
together : one was our bed on the heath !

" Deugala was the spouse of Cairbar, chief of the
plains of Ullin. She was covered with the light of
beauty, but her heart was the house of pride. She
loved that sun-beam of youth, the son of noble
Damman. ' Cairbar,' said the white-armed Deu-
gala, ' give me half of the herd. No more will I
remain in your halls. Divide the herd, dark Cair-
bar !' * Let Cuthullin,' said Cairbar, * divide my
herd on the hill. His breast is the seat of justice.
Depart, thou light of beauty !' I went and di\ided
the herd. One snow-white bull remained. I gave
that bull to Cairbar. The A\Tath of Deugala rose !

" ' Son of Damman,' begun the fair, ' Cuthullin
has pained my soul. I must hear of his death, or
Lubar's stream shall roll over me. My pale ghost

* A place in Ulster.

AN EPIC POEM. 227

Storj- of Daiximan and Deugala.

shall wander near thee, and mourn the wound of
my pride. Pour out the blood of Cuthullin, or
pierce this heaving breast.' ' Deugala,' said the
fair-haired youth, ' hoAv shall I slay the son of Se-
mo ? He is the friend of my secret thoughts.
Shall I tlien lift the sword ?' She wept three days
before the chief: on the fourth he said he would
fight. ' I will fight my friend, Deugala ! but may
I fall by his sword ! Could I wander on the hill
alone ? Could I behold the grave of Cuthullin ?'
We fought on the plain of Muri. Our swords avoid
a wound. They slide on the helmets of steel ; or
sound on the slippeiy shields. Deugala was near
Avith a smile, and said to the son of Damman :
* Tliine arm is feeble, sun-beam of youth : Thy
years are not strong for steel. Yield to the son of
Semo. He is a rock on Malmor.'

" The tear is in the eye of the youth. He, faul-
tering, said to me : ' Cuthullin, raise thy bossy
shield. Defend thee from the hand of thy friend.
My soul is laden with grief : for I must slay the
chief of men !' I sighed as the wind in the cleft
of a rock. I lifted high the edge of my steel. The
sun-beam of battle fell : the first of Cuthullin's
friends ! Unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin since
the hero fell !"

" ^Mournful is thy tale, son of the car," said Car-
ril of otlier times. " It sends my soul back to the
ages of old, to the days of other years. Often have
I heard of Comal, who slew the friend he loved ;

228 FINGAL,

Connal relates the story of Comal and Galbina,

yet victory attended his steel ; the battle was con-
sumed in his presence !"

" Comal was a son of Albion ; the chief of an hun-
dred hills ! His deer drank of a thousand streams.
A thousand rocks replied to the voice of his dogs.
His face was the mildness of youth. His hand the
death of heroes. One was his love, and fair was
she ! the daughter of mighty Conloch. She ap-
peared like a sun-beam among Avomen. Her hair
was the wing of the raven. Her dogs were taught
to the chase. Her bow-string sounded on the
winds. Her soul was fixed on Comal. Often met
their eyes of love. Their course in the chase was
one. Happy were their words in secret. But
Ginimal loved the maid, the dark chief of the gloomy
Ardven. He watched her lone steps in the heath;
the foe of unhappy Comal !

" One day, tired of the chase, when the mist had
concealed their friends, Comal and the daughter of
Conloch met in the cave of Ronan. It Avas the
wonted haunt of Comal. Its sides were hung with
his arms. A hundred shields of thongs were there ;
a hundred helms of sounding steel. ' Rest here,'
he said, ' my love, Galbina : thou light of the cave
of Ronan : a deer appears on Mora's brow. I go ;
but I will soon return.' ' I fear,' she said, ' dark
Grumal, my foe : he haunts the cave of Ronan ! I
Villi rest among the arms ; but soon return, my
love.'

" He went to the deer on Mora. The daughter

AN EPIC POEM. 229

Death of Galbina and Comal.

of Conlocli would try his love. She clothed her
fair sides with his armour ; she strode fi'om the cave
of Ronan ! He thoug^ht it was his foe. His heart
beat high. His colour changed, and darkness dim-
med his eyes. He drew the bow. The arrow flew.
Galbina fell in blood ! He run with wildness in
his steps ; he called the daughter of Coidoch. No
answer in the lonely rock. ' Where art thou, O
my love ?' He saw, at length, her heaving heart,
beating round the arrow he threw. ' O Conloch's
daughter, is it thou ?' He sunk upon her breast !
the hunters found the hapless pair. He afterwards
walked the hill. But many and silent were his
steps round the dark dwelling of his love. The
fleet of the ocean came. He fought, the strangers
fled. He searched for death along the field. But
who could slay the mighty Comal ! He threw
away his dark -brown shield. An an'ow found his
manly breast. He sleeps with his loved Galbina,
at the noise of the sounding surge ! Their green
tombs are seen by the mariner, when he bounds
on the waves of the north."

FINGAL :

BOOK THIRD.

ARGUMENT.

CuthuUin, pleased •with the story of Carril^ insists "with that
bard for more of his songs. He relates the actionsof Fin-
gal ill Lochlin, and death of Agandccca the beautiful sis-
ter ofSwaran. He had scarce finished^ when Calmar, the
son of Matha^ who had advised the first battle^ came wound-
edfrom the field^ and told them ofSwaran''s design to sur-
prise the remains of the Irish army. He himself proposes
to withstand singly the whole force of the enemy., in a nar-
row passy till the Irish should make good their retreat.
Cuthullin^ touched with the gallant proposal ofCalmar^
resolves to accompany'Jiim^ and orders Carrihto carry off
the few that remained of the Irish, Morning comes .^ Cal-
mar dies of his wounds ; and the ships of the Caledonians
appearing., Swaran gives over the pursuit of the Irish^ and
returns to oppose FingaVs landing. Cuthullin, ashamed,
after his defeat., to appear before Fingal, retires to the cave
of Tura. Fingal engages the enemy ; puts them to flight ;
but the coming on of night makes the victory not decisive.
The king., who had observed the gallant behaviour of his
grandson Oscar, gives him advice conccrriing his conduct
in peace or war. He recommends to h im to place the exam-
ple of his fathers before his eyes, as the best model for his
conduct: which introduces the episode concerning Faina-
sollis, the daughter of the king ofCraca, whom Fingal had
taken under his protection, in his youth. Fillan and Oscar
are despatched to observe the motions of the enemy by night.
Gaul,thesonof Morni, desires the command of the army
in the next battle ; which Fingal promises to give him.
Some general reflections of the poet close the third day.

FINGAL.

BOOK THIRD.*

" Pleasant ai'e the words of the song," said
Cuthullin ! "lovely the tales of other times! They
are like the calm dew of the morning on the hill of
roes ; when the sun is faint on its side, and the lake
is settled and blue in the vale. O Carril raise again
thy voice ! let me hear the song of Selma : which
was sung in my halls of joy, when Fingal, king of
shields, was there, and glowed at the deeds of his
fathers !"

" Fingal ! thou dweller of battle," said Carril,
" early were thy deeds in arms. Lochlin was con-
sumed in thy wrath, when thy youth strove with
the beauty of maids. They smUed at the fair bloom-
ing face of the hero ; but death was in his hands.
He was strong as the waters of Lora. His follow-
ers were the roar of a thousand streams. They

• The second night, since the opening of the poem, continues ; and
Cuthullin, Connal, and Carril, still sit in the place described in the pre-
ceding book. The story of Agandecca is introduced here with propri-
ety, as great use is made of it in the course of the poem, and as it, in
some measure, brings about the catastrophe.

u 2

234 FINGAL,

Stamo treacherously offers his daughter in marriage to Fingal.

took the king of Lochlin in war; they restored
him to liis ships. His hig heart swelled with
pride ; the death of the youth was dark in his
soul. For none ever, but Fingal, had overcome
the strength of the mighty Starno.* He sat in the
hall of his shells in Lochlin's woody land. He
called the gi-ay-haired Snivan, that often sung round
the circle j- of Loda : when the stone of power
heai-d his voice, and battle turned in the field of
the valiant !

" ' Go, gray-haired Snivan,' Stamo said ; * go
to Ardven's sea-surrounded rocks. Tell to the
king of Selma, he the fairest among his thousands;
tell him I give him my daughter, the loveUest maid
that ever heaved a breast of snow. Her arms are
white as the foam of my waves. Her soul is ge-
nerous and mild. Let him come with his bravest
heroes, to the daughter of the secret hall !' Snivan
came to Selma's hall : fair-haired Fingal attended
his steps. His kindled soul flew to the maid, as he
bounded on the waves of the north. ' Welcome,'
said the dark-brown Starno, ' welcome, king of
rocky Morven : welcome his heroes of might, sons
of the distant isle ! Tlu-ee days within my halls
shall ye feast ; three days pursue my boars ; that

• Stamo was the father of Swaran, as well as Agandecca. His fierce
and cruel character is well marked in other poems concerning the times.

f This passage most certainly alludes to the religion of Lochlin ; and
the stone ofjxvicr here mentioned, is the image of one of the deities of
Scandinavia.

AN EPIC POEM. 235

Fingal, by his bravery, escapes the treachery of Stamo.

your fame may reach the maid Avho dwells in the
secret hall.'

" Starno desiorned their death. He gave tlie
feast of shells. Fingal, who doubted the foe, kept
on his arms of steel. The sons of death were afraid :
they fled from the eyes of the king. The voice of
sprightly mirth arose. The trembling harps of joy
were strung. Bards sung the battle of heroes :
they sung the heaving breast of love. UUin, Fin-
gal's bard, was there, the sweet voice of resound-
ing Cona. He praised the daughter of Lochhn ;
and ^lorven's* high-descended chief. The daugh-
ter of Lochlin overheard. She left the hall of her
secret sigh ! She came in all her beauty, like the
moon from the cloud of the east. Loveliness was
around her as light. Her steps were the music of
songs. She saw the youth, and loved him. He
was the stolen sigh of her soul. Her blue eye rolled
on him in secret : she blest the chief of resoimding
Morven.

" The third day, with all its beams, shone bright
on the wood of boars. Forth moved the dark-
browed Stamo ; and Fingal, king of shields. Half
the day they spent in the chase ; the spear of Sel-
ma was red in blood. It was then the daughter of
Stamo, with blue eyes rolling in tears ; it was then
she came with her voice of love, and spoke to the
king of Morven. ' Fingal, high descended chief,

• All the north-west coast of Scotland probably went of old under the
name of Morven, which signifies a ridge of very high hills.

236 FINGAL,

Stamo kills Agandecca fur favouring Fingal.

trust not Stai'no's heart of pride. Within that
wood he has placed his chiefs. Beware of the
wood of death. But remember, son of the isle, re-
member Agandecca : save me from the wrath of
my father, king of the windy Morven !'

" The youth with unconcern went on, his heroes
by his side. The sons of death fell by his hand ; and
Gormal echoed around ! Before the halls of Stamo
the sons of the chase convened. The king's dark
brows were like clouds. His eyes like meteors of
night. * Bring hither,' he said, ' Agandecca to her
lovely king of Morven ! His hand is stained with
the blood of my people ; her words have not been
in vain !' She came with the red eye of tears.
She came with loosely flowing locks. Her white
breast heaved with broken sighs, like the foam of
the streamy Lubar. Stamo pierced her side mth
steel. She fell, like a wreath of snow, which slides
from the rocks of Ronan ; when the woods are still,
and echo deepens in the vale ! Then Fingal eyed
his vahant chiefs; his valiant chiefs took arms.
The gloom of battle roared ; Lochlin fled or died.
Pale, in his bounding ship he closed the maid of
the softest soul. Her tomb ascends on Ardven ;
the sea roars round her narrow dwelling."

" Blessed be her soul," said CuthuUin, " bless-
ed be the mouth of the song! Strong was the
youth of Fingal : strong is his arm of age. Loch-
lin shall fall again before the king of echoing
Morven. Show thy face from a cloud, O moon!
light his white sails on the wave: and if any

AN EPIC POEM. 237

Cdlmar, wounded, returns from the field of battle.

Strong spirit* of heaven sits on that low-hung
cloud; turn his dark ships from the rock, thou
rider of the storm."

Such were the words of Cuthullin, at the sound
of the mountain stream; when Calmar ascended
the hm, the wounded son of Matha. From the
field he came in his hlood. He leaned on his
bending spear. Feeble is the arm of battle ! but
strong the soul of the hero! " welcome! O son
of Matha," said Connal, " Welcome art thou to
thy fiiends! Why bursts that broken sigh from the
breast of him who never feared before?" *' And
never, Connal, will he fear, chief of the pointed
steel! My soul brightens in danger: in the noise
of arms. I am of the race of battle. My fathers
never feared.

" Cormar was the fii'st of my race. He sport-
ed through the storms of waves. His black skiff
bounded on ocean; he travelled on the wings of
the wind. A spirit once embroiled the night.
Seas swell, and rocks resound. Winds drive along
the clouds. The lightning flies on wings of fire.
He feared, and came to land; then blushed that
he feared at all. He rushed again among the
waves to find the son of the Avind. Three youths

• This is the only passage in the poem that has the appearance of re-
ligion. But Cuthullin's apostrophe to this spirit is accompanied with
a doubt, so that it is not easy to determine whether the hero meant a
superior being, or the ghosts of deceased warriors, who were supposed
in those times to rule the storms, and to transport themselves in a gust
of wind from one country to another.

238 FINGAL,

Gallant conduct of CuthuUin and Calraar.

guide the bounding bark; he stood with sword
unsheathed. When the low hung vapour passed,
he took it by the curling head. He searched its
dark womb with his steel. The son of the wind
forsook the air. The moon and stars returned!
Such was the boldness of my race. Calmar is like
his fathers. Danger flies from the hfted sword.
They best succeed who dare !

" But now, ye sons of green Erin, retire from
Lena's bloody heath. Collect the sad remnant of
our friends, and join the sword of Fingal. I heard
the sound of Lochlin's advancing ai'ms! Calmar
will remain and fight. My voice shall be such,
my friends, as if thousands were behind me. But,
son of Semo, remember me. Remember Calmar's
lifeless corse. When Fingal shall have wasted the
field, place me by some stone of remembrance,
that future times may hear my fame: that the
mother of Calmar may rejoice in my reno^vn."

" No: son of Matha," said CuthuUin, " I will
never leave thee here. My joy is in unequal
fight: my soul increases in danger. Connal and
Carril of other times, carry off the sad sons of
Erin. When the battle is over, search for us in
this narrow way. For near tliis oak we shall fall,
in the stream of the battle of thousands." " O
Fithil's son, with flying speed rush over the heath
of Lena. Tell to Fingal that Erin is fallen. Bid
the king of Morven come. O let him come, like
the sun in a storm, to lighten, to restore the isle!"

Morning is gray on Cromla. The sons of the

AN EPIC POEM. 239

Cuthullin retires to the wood of Cromla.

sea asceml. Calmar stood forth to meet them in
the prkle of his kindling- soul. But pale was the
face of the chief. He leaned on his father's spear.
Tliat spear which he brought from Lara, when the
soul of his mother was sad; the soul of the lonely
Alcletha, waning in the sorrow of years. But
slowly now the hero falls, Uke a tree on the plain.
Dai'k Cuthullin stands alone like a rock in a sandy
vale. The sea comes with its waves, and roars on
its hardened sides. Its head is covered with foam;
the hills are echoing around.

Now, from the gray mist of the ocean, the
white-sailed ships of Fingal appear. High is the
grove of their masts, as they nod, by tmns, on the
rolling wave. Swaran saw them from the hill.
He returned from the sons of Erin. As ebbs the
resounding sea, through the hundred isles of Inis-
tore; so loud, so vast, so immense returned the
sons of Lochlin against the king. But bending,
weeping, sad, and slow, and dragging his long
spear behind, Cuthullin sunk in Cromla's wood,
and mourned his fallen friends. He feared the
face of Fingal, who was wont to greet him from
the fields of reno^\^l!

" How many lie there of my heroes! the chiefs
of Erin's race ! they that were cheerful in the hall,
when the sound of the shells arose! No more
shall I find their steps in the heath. No more
shall I hear their voice in the chase. Pale, silent,
low, on bloody beds, are they who were my friends !
O spirits of the lately dead, meet Cuthullin on his

240 FINGAL,

Fingal lands in Ireland, and attacks the army of Swaran.

heath! Speak to him on the wind, when the
rustling tree of Tura's cave resounds. There, far
remote, I shall lie unknown. No bard sliall hear
of me. No gTay stone shall rise to my renown.
Mourn me with the dead, O Bragela! departed is
my fame." Such were the words of Cuthullin,
when he sunk in the woods of Cromla!

Fingal, tall in his ship, stretched his bright
lance before him. Tenible was the gleam of the
steel: it was like the green meteor of death setting
in the heath of Malmor, when the traveller is
alone, and the broad moon is darkened in heaven.

" The battle is past," said the king. " I behold
the blood of my friends. Sad is the heath of Le-
na! mournful the oaks of Cromla ! The hunters
have fallen in their strength ! The son of Semo is
no more, llyno and Fillan, my sons, sound the
horn of Fingal. Ascend that hill on the shore;
call the childxen of the foe. Call them from the
gi-ave of Lamdarg, the chief of other times. Be
your voice like that of your father, when he enters
the battles of his strength. I wait for the miglity
stranger. I wait on Lena's shore for Swaran.
Let him come with all his race; strong in battle
are the friends of the dead !"

Fair Ryno as lightning gleamed along: dark
Fillan rushed as the cloud of autumn. On Lena's
heath their voice is heard. Tbe sons of ocean
heard the horn of Fingal. As tbe roaring eddy of
ocean returning from the kingdom of snows: so
strong, so dark, so sudden came down the sons of

AN EPIC POEM. 241

Fingal invites Svaran to the feast of shells.

Loclilin. The king in their front appears, in the dis-
mal pride of his arms ! Wrath burns on his dark-
broA\ii face: his eyes roll in the fire of his valour.
Fingal beheld the son of Starno; he remembered
Agandecca. For Swaran, with the tears of youth,
had mourned his white-bosomed sister. He sent
Ullin of songs to bid him to the feast of shells:
for pleasant on Fingal's soul returned the memory
of the first of his loves!

Ullin came with aged steps, and spoke to Star-
no's son. " O thou that dwellest afar, sunound-
ed, like a rock, with thy waves ! come to the feast
of the king, and pass the day in rest. To-mor-
row let us fight, O Swaran, and break the echoing
shields." " To-day," said Starno's wTatliful son,
" we break the echoing shields: to-morrow my
feast shall be spread; but Fingal shall lie on the
earth." " To-nionow let his feast be spread,"
said Fingal with a smile. " To-day, O my sons!
we shall break the echoing shields. Ossian, stand
thou near my arm. Gaul, lift thy temble sword.
Fergus, bend thy crooked yew. Throw, Fillan,
thy lance through heaven. Lift your shields, like
the darkened moon. Be yom- spears the meteors
of death. Follow me in the path of my fame.
Equal my deeds in battle."

As a hundred winds on Morven; as the streams
of a hundred hills ; as clouds fly successive over
heaven; as the dark ocean assails the shore of the
desert : so roaring, so vast, so ten'ible, the armies
mixed on Lena's echoing heath. The groan of

VOL. I. X

242 FINGAL,

The heroic deeds of Flngal and his sons.

the people spread over the hilLs : it was Hke the
thunder of niglit, Avhen the clouds burst on Cona;
and a thousand ghosts shriek at once on the hol-
low wind. Fingal rushed on in his strength, ter-
rible as the spirit of Trenmor; when in a whirl-
wind, he comes to Morven, to see the children of
his pride. The oaks resound on their mountains,
and the rocks fall down before him. Dimly seen, as
lightens the night, he strides largely from hill to liill.
Bloody was the hand of my father, when he whirl-
ed the gleam of his sword. He remembers the
battles of his youth. The field is wasted in his
com-se !

Ryno went on like a pillar of fire. Dark is the
brow of Gaul. Fergus rushed forward with feet
of wind. Fillan like the mist of the hill. Ossian,
like a rock, came down. I exulted in the strength
of the king. Many were the deaths of my arm !
dismal the gleam of my sword! My locks were
not then so gray; nor trembled my hands with
age. My eyes were not closed in darkness; my
feet failed not in the race!

Who can relate the deaths of the people? Who
the deeds of mighty heroes; when Fingal, burning
in his wrath, consumed the sons of Lochlin?
Groans swelled on groans from hill to hill, till
night had covered all. Pale, staring like a herd
of deer, the sons of Lochlin convene on Lena.
We sat, and heard the sprightly liarp, at Lubar's
gentle stream. Fingal himself was next to the foe.
He listened to the tales of his bards. His god-

AN EPIC POEM. 243

Fingal's admirable advice to his grandson Oscar.

like race Avere in the song, the chiefs of other
times. Attentive, leaning on his shield, the king
of Morven sat. The wind whistled through his
locks ; his thoughts are of the days of other years.
Near him, on his bending spear, my young, my
valiant Oscar stood. He admired the king of
Morven: his deeds were swelling in his soul!

" Son of my son," begun the king, " O Os-
car, pride of youth! I saw the shining of thy
sword. I gloried in my race. Pursue the fame
of our fathers ; be thou what they have been, when
Trenmor lived, the first of men, and Trathal,
the father of heroes ! They fought the battle in
their youth. They are the song of bards. O
Oscar! bend the strong in arm; but spare the
feeble hand. Be thou a stream of many tides
against the foes of thy people ; but like the gale
that moves the giass, to those who ask thine
aid. So Treiunor lived; such Trathal was; and
such has Fingal been. jNIy arm was the support
of the injured? the weak rested behind the light-
ning of my steel.

" Oscar! I was young like thee, when lovely
Fainasollis came: that sun-beam! that mild light
of love! the daughter of * Craca's king! I then
returned from Cona's heath, and few were in my
train. A white-sailed boat appeai'ed far off; we

• What the C'raca here mentioned was, is not, at this distance of
time, easy to determine. The most probable opinion is, that it was
one of the Shetland isles. There is a story concemiBg a daughter of
the king of Craca in the sixth book.

2U FINGAL.

The story of Borbar and Falnasollis.

saw it like a mist, that rode on ocean's wind. It
soon approached. We saw the fair. Her white
breast heaved with sighs. The wind was in her
loose dark hair: her rosy cheek had tears.

" ' Daughter of beauty,' calm I said, ' what
sigh is in thy breast? Can I, young as I am,
defend thee, daughter of the sea? My sword
is not unmatched in war, but dauntless is my
heart.'

" ' To thee I fly,' with sighs she said, * O
prince of mighty men ! To thee I fly, chief of
the generous shells, supporter of the feeble hand !
The king of Craca's echoing isle owned me the
sun-beam of his race. Cromla's hills have heard
the sighs of love for unhappy Fainasollis ! Sora's
chief beheld me fair; he loved the daughter of
Craca. His sword is a beam of light upon the
warrior's side. But dark is his brow; and tem-
pests are in his soul. I shun him on the roaring
sea; but Sora's chief pursues.'

" ' Rest thou,' I said, ' behind my shield ; rest
in peace, thou beam of light ! The gloomy chief of
Sora will fly, if Fingal's arm is like his soul. In
some lone cave I might conceal thee, daughter of
the sea ! But Fingal never flies. Where the dan-
ger threatens, I rejoice in the storm of spears.' I
saw the tears upon her cheek. I pitied Craca's
fair. Now, like a dreadful wave afar, appeared the
ship of stormy Borbar. His masts high bended
over the sea behind their sheets of snow. White
roll the waters on either side. The strength of

AN EPIC POEM. 243

Fillan and Oscar are sent to view the troops of Swaran.

ocean sounds. * Come thou,' I said, * from the
roar of ocean, thou rider of the storm ! Partake
the feast udthin my hall. It is the house of stran-
gers.'

" The maid stood trembling by my side. He
drew the bow. She fell. ' Unerring is thy hand,'
I said, ' but feeble was the foe !' We fought, nor
weak the strife of death ! He sunk beneath my
sword. We laid them in two tombs of stone ; the
hapless lovers of youth ! Such have I been in my
youth, O Oscai- ! be thou like the age of Fingal.
Never search thou for battle ; nor shim it when
it comes.

" Fillan and Oscar of the dark-brown hair ! ye,
that are swift in the race ! fly over the heath in my
presence. View the sons of Lochlin. Far off I
hear the noise of their feet, like distant sounds in
woods. Go : that they may not fly from my
sword, along the waves of the north. For many
chiefs of Erin's race lie here on the dark bed of
death. The^children of war are low ; the sons of
echoing Cromla."

The heroes flew like two dark clouds : two
dark clouds that are the chariots of ghosts ; when
air's dark children come forth to frighten hapless
men. It was then that Gaul,* the son of Momi,

* Gaul, the son of Morni, was chief of a tribe that disputed long the
pre-eminence with Fingal himself. They were reduced at last to obe-
dience, and Gaul, from an enemy, turned Fingal's best friend and
gieatest hero. His character is something like that of Ajax in the II-

X 2

246 FINGAL.

Gaul requests of Fingal the command in the next battle.

stood like a rock in night. His spear is glittering
to the stars ; his voice like many streams.

" Son of battle," cried the chief; " O Fingal,
king of shells ! let the bards of many songs sooth
Erin's friends to rest. Fingal, sheath thou thy
sword of death; and let thy people fight. We
wither away without our fame : our king is the
only breaker of shields ! When morning rises on
our hills, behold, at a distance, our deeds. Let
Lochlin feel the sword of Morni's son ; that bards
may sing of me. Such was the custom heretofore
of Fingal's noble race. Such was thine own, thou
king of SAvords, in battles of the spear."

" O son of Momi," Fingal rephed, " I glory in
thy fame. Fight ; but my spear shall be near, to
aid thee in the midst of danger. Raise, raise the
voice, ye sons of song ! and lull me into rest. Here
will Fingal lie, amidst the wind of night. And if
thou, Agandecca, art near, among the children of
thy land ; if thou sittest on a blast of wind, among
the high-shrowded masts of Loclilin ! come to my
dreams,* my fair one. Show thy bright face to my
soul."

Many a voice and many a hai^p, in tuneful
sounds arose. Of Fingal's noble deeds they sung ;

liad ; 3L hero of more strength than conduct in battle. He was very fond
of military fame, and here he demands the next battle to himself. The
poet, by an artifice, removes Fingal, that his return may be the more
magnificent.
* The poet prepares us for the dream of Fingal in the next book.

AN EPIC POEM. 947

of Fingal's noble race : and sometimes, on the
lovely sound, was heard the name of Ossian. I
often fought, and often won, in battles of the
spear. But blind, tearful, and forlorn, I walk with
little men ! O Fingal, with thy race of war, I now
behold thee not ! The wild roes feed on the green
tomb of the mighty king of Morven ! Blest be thy
soul, thou king of swords, thou most renowned on
the hills of Cona !

FINGAL.

BOOK FOURTH,

ARGUMENT.

The action of the poem heing suspended by nighty Ossian takes
that opportunity to relate his own actions at the lake of Le-
go, and his courtship of Evirallin, who was the 7nother of
Oscar, ajid had died sometime before the expedition of Fin-
gal into Ireland. Her ghost appears to him, and tells him
that Oscar, who had been sent, the beginning of the night,
to observe the enemy, was engaged with an advanced party
and almost overpowered. Ossian relieves his son ; and an
alarm is given to Fingal oftlie approach ofSwaran. The
king rises, calls his army together, and, as he had promised
the preceding night, devolves the command on Gaul, the son
ofMorni, while lie himself, after charging his sons to be-
have gallantly and defend his people, retires to a hill, from
-whence he could have a view of the battle. The battle joins ;
the poet relates Oscar^s great actions. But when Oscar, in
conjunction with his father, conquered in one wing, Gaul,
who was attacked by Swaran in person, was on the point of
retreating in the other. Fingal sends Ullin his bard to en-
courage him with a war soiig, but notwithstanding Swaran
prevails ; and Gaul and his army are obliged to give way.
Fingal, descendingfrom the hill, rallies them again : Swa-
ran desists from the pursuit, possesses himself of a rising
ground, restores the ranks, and waits the approach of Fin-
gal. The king, having encouraged his men, gives the ne-
cessary orders, and renews the battle. Cuthullin, who, with
his friend Connal, and Carril his bard, had retired to the
cave of Tura, hearing the noise, came to the brow of the hill,
which overlooked the field of battle, where he saw Fingal
engaged with the enemy. He, being hindered by Connal
from joining Fingal, who was himself upon the point of ob-
taining a complete victory, sends Carril to congratulate that
hero on his success.

FINGAL.

BOOK FOURTH.*

Who comes with her songs fi-om the hill, like
the bow of the showery Lena ? It is the maid of
the voice of love ! the white-armed daughter of
Toscar ! Often hast thou heard my song ; often
given the tear of beauty. Dost thou come to the
wars of thy people ? to hear the actions of Oscar ?
When shall I cease to mourn, by the streams of re-
soimding Cona ? My years have passed away in
battle. My age is darkened with grief!

Daughter of the hand of snow ! I was not
so momnful and blhid ; I was not so dark
and forlorn, when Evdrallin loved me ! Eviral-

• Fingal being asleep, and the action suspended by night, the poet
introduces the story of his courtship of Evirallin, the daughter of
Branno. The episode is necessary to clear up several passages that
follow in the poem ; at the same time that it naturally brings on
the action of the book, which may be supposed to begin about the
middle of the third night from the opening of the poem. This book,
as many of Ossian's other compositions, is addressed to the beautiful
Malvina, the daughter of Toscar. She appears to have been in love
with Oscar, and to have aflected the company of the father after
the death of the son.

252

his couruhip with Evirallin

lin with the dark-hrown hair, the white-hosomed
daughter of Branno ! A thousand heroes sought
the maid ; she refused her love to a thousand. The
sons of the sword were despised : for graceful in
her eyes was Ossian ! I went, in suit of the maid,
to Lego's sable sm'ge. Twelve of my people were
there, the sons of streamy Morven. We came to
Branno, fiiend of strangers ! Branno of the sound-
ing mail ! " From whence," he said, " are the
arms of steel ? Not easy to win is the maid, who
has denied the blue-eyed sons of Erin ! But blest
be thou, O son of Fingal ! Happy is the maid that
waits thee 1 Though twelve daughters of beauty
were mine, thine were the choice, thou son of
fame !"

He opened the hall of the maid, the dark-haired
Evirallin. Joy kindled in our manly breasts. We
blest the maid of Branno. Above us on the hill ap-
peared the people of stately Cormac. Eight w^ere the
heroes of the chief. The heath flamed wide with
their arms. There Colla, there DuiTa of wounds,
there mighty Toscar and Tago, there Frestal the
victorious stood ; Dairo of the happy deeds ; Dala,
the battle's bulwark in the narrow way ! The
sword flamed in the hand of Cormac. Graceful
was the look of the hero ! Eight were the heroes
of Ossian : Ullin, stormy son of war ; Midlo of the
generous deeds ; the noble, the gi-acefid Scelacha ;
Oglan and Cerdal the wrathful; Dumarrican's brows
of death ! And why should Ogar be the last ; so
wide renowned on the hills of Ardven !

AN EPIC POEM. 253

Tlie gliost of ETirallin appears to Ossian.

Ogar met Dala the strong, face to face, on the
field of heroes. The battle of the chiefs was like
wind on ocean's foamy waves. The dagger is re-
membered by Ogar ; the Aveapon which he loved :
nine tunes he droAAaied it in Dala's side. The
stormy battle tm-ned. Three times I broke on
Cormac's shield : three times lie broke his spear.
But, unhappy youth of love ! I cut his head away.
Five times I shook it by the lock. The ft-iends of
Cormac fled. ^Vlloever would have told me, lovely
maid, when then I strove in battle ; that blind, for-
saken, and forlorn, I now should pass the night ;
firm ought his mail to have been ; unmatched his
arm in war !

On * Lena's gloomy heath the voice of music
died away. The inconstant blast blew hard. The
high oak shook its leaves around. Of E^Ti-allin were
my thoughts, when in all the light of beauty she
came ; her blue eyes rolling in tears. She stood on
a cloud before my sight, and spoke with feeble
voice ! <' Rise, Ossian, rise, and save my son ;
save Oscar, prince of men. Near the red oak of
Luba's stream he fights Avith Lochlin's sons." She
smik into her cloud again. I covered me with
steel. ]My spear supported my steps ; my rattling
armour rung. I hummed, as I Avas wont in dan-

• The poet returns to his subject. If one could fix the tune of the
year in which the action of the poem happened, from the scene described
here, I should be tempted to place it in autumn. Tlie trees shed their
leaves, and the winds are variable, both which circumstances agree with
that season of the year.

VOL. I. Y

254

ger, the songs of heroes of old. Like distant thun-
der Loclihn heard. They fled ; my son pursued."

I called him like a distant stream. " Oscar !
return over Lena. No further pursue the foe," I
said, " though Ossian is behind thee." He came ;
and pleasant to my ear was Oscar's sounding steel.
" Why didst thou stop my hand," he said, " till
death had covered all ? For dark and dreadful by
the stream they met thy son and Fillan ! They
watched the teiTors of the night. Our swords have
conquered some. But as the winds of night pom*
the ocean over the white sands of Mora, so dark
advance the sons of Lochlin, over Lena's rustling
heath ! The ghosts of night shriek afar ! I have
seen the meteors of death. Let me awake the king
of Morven, he that smiles in danger ! He that is
like the sun of heaven, rising in a storm !"

Fingal had started from a dream, and leaned on
Trenmor's shield ; the dark-brown shield of his
fathers, wliich they had lifted, of old, in war. The
hero had seen, in his rest, the mournful form of
Agandecca. She came from the way of the ocean.
She slowly, lonely, moved over Lena. Her face
was pale like the mist of Cromla. Dark were the
tears of her cheek. She often raised lier dim liand
from her robe — her robe wliich Avas of the clouds
of the desert: she raised her dim hand over Fingal,
and turned away her silent eyes ! " Why weeps
the daughter of Starno ?" said Fingal, with a sigh ;
" why is thy face so pale, fair wanderer of the
clouds?" She departed on the wind of Lena.

I

AN EPIC POEM. 2d5

She left him in the midst of the night. She
mourned tlie sons of her people, that were to fall
by the liand of Fingal.

The hero started from rest. Still he beheld her
in his soul. The sound of Oscar's steps approached.
The king saw the gi'ay shield on liis side : for the
faint beam of the morning came over the waters
of UUin. " What do the foes in theii- fear?" said
the rising king of Morven ; "or fly they through
ocean's foam, or wait they the battle of steel ? But
why should Fingal ask ? I hear their voice on the
early wind ! Fly over Lena's heath : O Oscar,
awake our friends !"

The king stood by the stone of Lubar. Thrice
he reaied his temble voice. The deer started
from the fountains of Cromla. The rocks shook
on all their hills. Like the noise of a hundred
mountain-streams, that burst, and roar, and foam !
like the clouds, that gather to a tempest on the
blue face of the sky ! so met the sons of the desert,
round the terrible voice of Fingal. Pleasant was
the voice of the king of Morven to the warriors of
his land. Often had he led them to battle ; often
returned with the spoils of the foe.

" Come to battle," said the king, " ye children
of echoing Selma ! Come to the death of thou-
sands. Comhal's son will see the fight. My
sword shall wave on the hill, the defence of my
people in war. But never may you need it, waniors !
while the son of Momi fights, the chief of mighty
men ! He shall lead my battle; that his fame may

FJngnl, devolving Ihe cdmmaiul on Gaul, retires to a neighbouring hill.

rise in song ! O ye ghosts of heroes dead ! ye
riders of the storm of Cromla ! receive my falling
people with joy, and bear them to yom- liills. And
may the blast of Lena carry them over my seas,
that they may come to my silent di'eams, and de-
Hght my soul in rest ! Fillan and Oscar, of the
dark-browTi hair ! fair R^aio, Avith the pointed steel !
advance, with valom", to the fight. Behold the son
of Morni ! Let your swords be like his in strife :
behold the deeds of his hands. Protect the friends
of your father. Remember the chiefs of old. My
children, I will see you yet, though here ye should
fall in Erin. Soon shall our cold, pale ghosts meet
in a cloud on Cona's eddying winds !"

Now, like a dark and stormy cloud, edged round
with the red lightning of heaven — flying westward
from the morning's beam — the king of Selma re-
moved. Terrible is the light of his armour : two
spears are in his hand. His gray haii- falls on the
wind. He often looks back on the war. Three
bards attend the son of fame, to beai* his words to
the chiefs. High on Cromla's side he sat, waving
the lightning of his sword ; and, as he waved, we
moved.

Joy rises in Oscar's face. His cheek is red.
His eye sheds tears. The sword is a beam of fire
in his hand. He came, and smiling, spoke to
Ossian. " O ruler of the fight of steel! my father,
hear thy son ! Retire with Morven's mighty
chief. Give me the fame of Ossian. If here I
fall, — O chief, remember that breast of snow, the

AX EPIC POKM.

Gaul attacks the

lonely sunbeam of my love, the ^^'hite-llan(led
(laiiifiiter of Toscar ! For, with red cheek from
the rock, bending- over the stream, her soft hair
flies about her bosom, as she pours the sigh for
Oscar. Tell her I am on my hills, a lightly-
bounding son of the wind ; tell her, that in a cloud
I may meet the lovely maid of Toscar." " Raise,
Oscar, rather raise my tomb. I ^vill not yield the
war to thee. The first and bloodiest in the strife,
my arm shall teach thee how to fight. But, re-
member, my son, to place this sword, this bow,
the horn of my deer, within that dark and naiTow
house, whose mark is one gray stone ! Oscar, I
have no love to leave to the care of my son.
Evirallin is no more, the lovely daughter of
Branno ! "

Such were our words, when Gaul's loud voice
came gro\ving on the wind. He A\'aved on high
the sword of his father. We nished to death and
wounds. As waves, white-bubbling over the deep,
come swelling, roaring on ; as rocks of ooze meet
roaring waves ; so foes attacked and fought. Man
met with man, and steel with steel. Shields sound
and warriors fall. As a hundred hammers on
the red son of the furnace, so rose, so lomg their
swords !

Gaul mshed on, like a Avhirlwind in Ardven.
The destruction of heroes is on his sword. Swaran
was like the fire of the desert in the echoing heath
of Gormal ! How can I give to the song the death
of many speai's ? My sword rose high, and flamed
y2

258 FINGAL,

UUiu is sent to encourage Gaul, who is hanl pressed by Swaran.

in the strife of blood. Oscar, terrible wert thou,
my best, my gi-eatest son ! I rejoiced in my se-
cret soul, when his sword flamed over the slain.
They fled, amain, through Lena's heath. We
pursued and slew. As stones that bound from
rock to rock ; as axes in echoing woods ; as thun-
der rolls from hill to hill, in dismal, broken peals :
so blow succeeded to blow, and death to death,
from the hand of Oscar and mine.

But Swaran closed round Moral's son, as the
strength of the tide of Inistore. Tlie king half-
rose from his liill at the sight. He half-assumed
the spear. " Go, Ullin, go, my aged bard," begun
the king of Morven. " Remind the mighty Gaul
of war. Remind him of his fathers. Support the
yielding fight with songs ; for song enlivens war."
Tall Ullin went, with steps of age, and spoke to the
king of swords. " Son * of the chief of generous
steeds ! high-bounding king of spears ! Strong
arm in every perilous toil ! Hard heart that never
yields ! Chief of the pointed arms of death ! Cut
doAATi the foe ; let no white sail bound round dark
Inistore. Be thine arm like thunder, thine eyes
like fire, thy heart of solid rock. Wliirl round thy
sword as a meteor at night ; lift thy shield like the
flame of death. Son of the chief of generous
steeds, cut down the foe. Destroy !" The hero's

* The custom of encouraging men in battle with extempore rhymes
lias been carried down almost to our own times. Several of these war
songs are extant, but the most of them are only a group of epithets,
without cither beauty or harmony, utterly destitute of poetical merit

Ax\ EPIC POEM. -259

Swiiraii retires on the approach of Fingal.

heart beat high. But Swaran came with battle.
He cleft the shield of Gaul in twain. The sons
of Selma fled.

Fingal at once arose in arais. Thrice he reared
his dreadful voice. Cronila answered around.
The sons of the desert stood still. They bent
their flushing faces to earth, ashamed at the pre-
sence of the king. He came, like a cloud of rain
in the day of the sun, when sIoav it rolls on the
hill, and fields expect the shower. Silence attends
its slow progi-ess aloft ; but the tempest is soon to
arise. Swaran beheld the temble king of Morven.
He stopped in the midst of his course. Dark he
leaned on his spear, rolling his red eyes around.
Silent and tall he seemed as an oak on the banks
of Lubar, which had its branches blasted of old by
the lightning of heaven. It bends over the stream:
the gray moss whistles in the wind : so stood the
king. Then slowly he retired to the rising heath
of Lena. His thousands pour around the hero.
Darkness gathers on the hill !

Fingal, like a beam fi'om heaven, shone in the
midst of his people. His heroes gather around
him. He sends forth the voice of his power.
" Raise my standards on high ; spread them on
Lena's wind, like the flames of an hundred hills !
Let them sound on the winds of Erin, and remind
us of the fight. Ye sons of the roaring streams
that pour from a thousand liills, be near the king
of >\Ioi'ven ! attend to the words of his power !
Gaul, strongest arm of death ! O Oscar, of the

260 FINGAL,

The ardent courage of the chiefs of Selma.

future fights ! Connal, son of tlie blue shields of
Sora ! Dermid, of the dark -brown hair ! Ossian,
king of many songs, be near your father's arm !"
We reared the sunbeam * of battle ; the standard
of the king ! Each hero exulted with joy, as,
waving, it flew on the wind. It was studded with
gold above, as the blue-wide shell of the nightly
sky. Each hero had his standard, too ; and each,
his gloomy men !

" Behold," said the king of generous shells,
" how Lochlin divides on Lena ! They stand like
broken clouds on a hill ; or a half-consumed grove
of oaks ; when we see the sky through its branches,
and the meteor passing behind ! Let every chief
among the friends of Fingal take a dark troop of
those that frown so high: nor let a son of the echo-
ing groves bound on the waves of Inistore !"

" Mine," said Gaul, " be the seven chiefs that
came from Lano's lake." " Let Inistore's dark
king," said Oscar, " come to the sword of Ossian's
son. " " To mine, the king of Iniscon," said
Connal, " heart of steel!" " Or Mudan's chief
or I," said brown-haired Dermid, " shall sleep on
clay-cold earth." " My choice, though now so
weak and dark ! was Terman's battling king ; I
promised, with my hand, to win the hero's dark-

* Fingal's standard was distinguished by the name of sunbeam ; pro-
bably on account of its bright colour, and its being studded with gold.
To begin a battle is expressed, in old composition, by lifting qf the
sunbeam.

AN EPIC POEM. ti61

Fingal's army again advances to the combat, and ii victorious.

brown shield." " Blest and victorious be my
chiefs," said Fiugal, of the mildest look. " Swa-
ran, kino^ of roaring waves, thou art the choice of
Fingal !"

Now, like a hundred different winds that pour
through many vales ; divided, dark, the sons of
Selma advanced. Cromla echoed around ! How
can I relate the deaths, when we closed in the
strife of arms ! O, daughter of Toscar ! bloody
were oiu hands ! The gloomy ranks of Lochhn
fell, hke the banlcs of the roaring Cona ! Our
arms were Aactorious on Lena : each chief fulfilled
his promise ! Beside the murmur of Branno thou
didst often sit, O maid ! Thy white bosom rose
frequent, hke the down of the swan, when slow
she smms on the lake, and sidelong-wdnds blow
on her ruffled wing. Thou hast seen the sun re-
tire, red and slow, behind his cloud : night gather-
ing round on the mountain, while the unfrequent
blast roared in the naiTOW vales. At length, the
rain beats hard: thunder rolls in peals. Lightning
glances on the rocks ! Spirits ride on beams of
fii-e : the strength of the mountain-streams comes
roaring dowai the liills. Such was the noise of
battle, maid of the arms of snow ! Why, daughter
of Toscar, why that tear ? the maids of Lochliu
have cause to Aveep. The people of their country
fell. Bloody were the blue swords of the race of
my heroes. But I am sad, forlorn, and blind, no
more the companion of heroes. Give, lovely maid,

262 FINGAL,

Fingal slays Mathon, a Scandinavian hero.

to me thy tears. I have seen the tombs of all my
friends !

It was then, by Fingal's hand, a hero fell, to his
grief! Gray-hau'ed he rolled in the dust. He
lifted his faint eyes to the king. " And is it by
me thou hast fallen," said the son of Comhal,
" thou friend of Agandecca ! I have seen thy
tears for the maid of my love, in the halls of the
bloody Starno : thou hast been the foe of the foes
of my love ; and hast thou fallen by my hand !
Raise, Ullin, raise the grave of Mathon, and give
his name to Agandecca's song. Dear to my soul
hast thou been, thou darkly-dwelling maid of
Ardven !"

CuthuUin, from the cave of Cromla, heard the
noise of the troubled war. He called to Connal,
chief of swords ; to Carril of other times. The
gray-haired heroes heard his voice. They took
their pointed spears. They came, and saw the
tide of battle, like ocean's crowded waves : Avhen
the dark wind blows from the deep, and rolls the
billows through the sandy vale! Cuthullin kindled
at the sight. Darkness gathered on his brow. His
hand is on the sword of his fathers : his red-rolling
eyes on the foe. He thrice attempted to rush to
battle. He thrice was stopt by Connal. " Chief
of the isle of mist," he said, •' Fingal subdues the
foe. Seek not a part of the fame of the king;
himself is like the storm I"

" Then, Carril, go," rephed the chief, " go,

AN EPIC POEM. 263

Cutliullin sends to congratulate Fingal on his success.

§:i"eet the king of Morven. WTien Lochlin falls
away, like a stream after rain ; when the noise of
the battle is past : then be thy voice sweet in his
ear, to praise the king of Selma ! Give him the
sword of Cathbat. Cuthullin is not worthy to lift
the arms of his fathers ! Come, O ye ghosts of
the lonely Cromla ! Ye souls of chiefs that are no
more ! Be near the steps of Cuthullin ; talk to
liim in the cave of his grief. Never more shall I
be renowned among the mighty in the land. I am
a beam that has shone ; a mist that has fled away ;
when the blast of the morning came, and bright-
ened the shaggy side of the hill ! Connal ! talk of
arms no more : departed is my fame. My sighs
shall be on Cromla's wind, till my footsteps cease
to be seen. And thou, white-bosomed Bragela,
mourn over the fall of my fame : vanquished, I will
never return to thee, thou sunbeam of my soul !"

FINGAL.

BOOK FIFTH.

ARGUMENT.

Cuihullin and Connal still remain on the hill. Fingal and
Swaran meet ; the combat is described. Swaran is over-
come^ bounds and delivered over as a prisoner, to the care
qfOssian, and Gaul the son of Morni; Fingal, his young-
er sons, and Oscar, still pursue the enemy. The episode
of Orla, a chief of Lochlin, who was mortally wounded in
the battle, is introduced. Fingal, touched with the death
of Orla, orders the pursuit to be discontinued ; and calling
his sons together, he is informed that Ryno, the youngest
of them, was slain. He laments his death, hears the story
ofLamderg and Gelchossa, and returns towards the place
•where he had left Swaran. Carril, who had been sent by
Cuthullin to congratulate Fingal on his victory, comes, in
the mean time, to Ossian. The conversation of the two
poets closes the action of the fourth day.

FINGAL.

BOOK FIFTH.

On Cromla's resounding side, Connal spoke to
the chief of the noble car. " Why that gloom, son
of Semo ? Our friends are the mighty in fight.
Reno\ATied art thou, O wanior! Many were the
deaths of thy steel. Often has Bragela met, with
blue-rolling eyes of joy, — often has she met her
hero, returning in the midst of the valiant ; when
his sword was red with slaughter ; when his foes
were silent in the fields of the tomb. Pleasant
to her ears were thy bards, when thy deeds arose
in song.

" But, behold the king of Morven ! He moves,
below, like a pillar of fire. His strength is like
the stream of Lubar, or the wind of the echoing
Cromla ; when the branchy forests of night are
torn from all their rocks ! Happy are thy people,
O Fingal ! Thine arm shall finish their wars.
Thou art the first in their dangers : the wisest in
the days of their peace. Thou speakest, and thy
thousands obey : armies tremble at the sound of
thy steel. Happy are thy people, O Fingal ! king

268 FINGAL,

The combat of Fingal and Swaran.

of resounding Selma ! Who is that so dark and
ten-ible, coming in the thunder of his course ? who
but Stamo's son to meet the kmg of Morven !
Behold the battle of the chiefs ! It is the storm of
the ocean, when two spirits meet far distant, and
contend for the rolling of AA^aves. The hunter
hears the noise on his hill. He sees tlie high bil-
lows advancing to Ardven's shore !" Such were
the words of Connal, when the heroes met in fight.
There was the clang of arms ! There every blow,
like the hundred hammers of the furnace ! Terri-
ble is the battle of the kings ; dreadful the look of
their eyes. Their dark-brown shields are cleft in
twain. Their steel flies, broken, from theii- helms.
They fling their weapons down. Each rushes
to his hero's grasp : their sinewy anns bend round
each other; they turn from side to side, and strain
and stretch their large-spreading hmbs below. But
when the pride of their strength arose, they shook
the hill with their heels. Rocks tumble from their
places on high ; the green-headed bushes are over-
turned. At length, the strength of Swaran fell :
the king of the groves is bound. Thus have I seen
on Cona, — but Cona I behold no more ! Thus
have I seen two dark hills, removed from their
place, by the strength of the bursting stream.
They turn from side to side in their fall ; their tall
oaks meet one another on high. Then they tum-
ble together with all their rocks and trees. The
streams are turned by their side. The red ruin is
seen afai-.

" Sons of distant Morven," said Fuigal, " guaid

AN EPIC POEM. 269

Fingal pursues the Taiiqui>he(l atmy of Swaran.

the king of Lochlin ! He is strong as his thousand
waves. His hand is taught to war. His race is
of the times of old. Gaul, thou first of my heroes;
Ossian, king of songs, attend. He is the friend of
Agandecca ; raise, to joy his giief. But, Oscar,
Fillan, and Ryno, ye children of the race ! Pursue
Lochlin over Lena : that no vessel may hereafter
bound on the dark-rolling waves of Inistore !"

They flew, sudden, across the heath. He
slowly moved, like a cloud of thunder, when the
sultry plain of summer is silent and dark ! His
sword is before him as a sunbeam ; terrible as the
streaming meteor of night. He came toward a
chief of Lochlin. He spoke to the son of the
wave : " Who is that so dark and sad, at the rock
of the roaring stream ? He cannot bound over its
course. How stately is the chief! His bossy
shield is on his side ; his spear, like the tree of the
desert ! Youth of the dark-red hair, art thou of
the foes of Fingal ?"

" I am a son of Lochlin," he cries, " strong is my
arm in war. My spouse is weeping at home.
Orla shall never return !" " Or fights or yields
the hero ?" said Fingal, of the noble deeds. " Foes
do not conquer in my presence. My friends are
renowned in the hall. Son of the wave, follow
me, partake the feast of my shells : pursue the
deer of my desert : be thou the friend of Fingal."
" No :" said the hero, " I assist the feeble. My
strength is with the weak in aiTns. My sword has
been always unmatched, O warrior! Let the king
z2

270 FINGAL,

Fingal, pursuing the enemy, e

of Morven yield ! " "I never yielded, Orla !
Fingal never yielded to man. Draw thy sword,
and choose thy foe. Many are my heroes !"

" Does then the king refuse the fight ? " said
Orla of the dark-brown shield. " Fingal is a
match for Orla ; and he alone of all his race !
But, king of Morven, if I shall fall — as one time
the warrior must die — raise my tomb in the midst:
let it be the greatest on Lena. Send, over the
dark-blue wave, the sword of Orla to the spouse
of his love ; that she may show it to her son, with
tears, to kindle his soul to war." " Son of the
mournful tale, " said Fingal, " why dost thou
awaken my tears ? One day the warriors must die,
and the children see their useless arms in the hall.
But, Orla ! thy tomb shall rise. Thy white-bosomed
spouse shall weep over thy sword."

They fought on the heath of Lena. Feeble was
the arm of Orla. The sword of Fingal descended,
and cleft his shield in twain. It fell and glittered
on the ground, as the moon on the ruffled stream.
" King of Morven," said the hero, " lift thy sword
and pierce my breast. Wounded and faint from
battle, my friends have left me here. The mourn-
ful tale shall come to my love, on the banks of the
streamy Lota; when she is alone in the wood; and
the rustling blast in the leaves !"

" No :" said the king of Morven, " I will never
wound thee, Orla. On the banks of Lota let her
see thee, escaped from the hands of war. Let thy
gi-ay-haired father, who, perhaps, is blind with age

AN EPIC POEM. 271

Ulliu acquaints Fhiga! of the death of his son, Ryno.

— let bim hear the sound of tliy voice, and brighten
^vithin bis ball. With joy let the hero rise, and
search for his son with his hands !" " But never
will he find him, Fingal;" said the youth of the
streamy Lota. " On Lena's heath I must die:
Foreign hards shall talk of me. My broad belt
covers my wound of death. I give it to the
^vind I "

The dark blood poured from his side, he fell
pale on the heath of Lena. Fingal bent over him
as he dies, and called his younger chiefs. " Oscar
and Fillan, my sons, raise high the memory of
Orla. Here let the dark-haired hero rest, far
from the spouse of his love. Here let bim rest in
his narroAv house, far from the sound of Lota.
The feeble wall find bis bow at home; but will not
be able to bend it. His faithful dogs howl on
his hills ; his boars, which he used to pm'sue, re-
joice. Fallen is the arm of battle! the mighty
among the valiant is low! Exalt the voice, and
blow the horn, ye sons of the king of Morven!
Let us go back to Swaran, to send the night away
on song. Fillan, Oscar, and Ryno, fly over the
heath of Lena. Where Ryno, art thou, young
son of fame? Thou art not wont to be the last to
answer thy father's voice!"

" Ryno," said Ullin, first of bards, " is with the
awful forms of liis fathers. With Trathal, king of
shields; with Trenmor of mighty deeds. The youth
is low, tlie youth is pale, he lies on Lena's heath !"

272 FIN(}AL,

Fingal's lamentation for Ryno.

" Fell the swiftest in the race," said the king, " the
first to bend the bow? Thou scarce hast been
known to me ! Why did young Ryno fall ? But
sleep thou softly on Lena, Fingal shall soon behold
thee. Soon shall my voice be heard no more, and
my footsteps cease to be seen. The bards will
tell of Fingal's name. The stones will talk of me.
But Ryno, thou art low indeed! Thou hast not
received thy fame. Ullin, strike the harp for Ry-
no; tell what the chief would have been. Fare-
well, thou first in every field! No more shall I
direct thy dart ! Thou that hast been so fair ! I
behold thee not. Farewell." The tear is on the
cheek of the king. For temble was his son in
war. His son ! that was like a beam of fire by
night on a hill ; when the forests sink down in its
course, and the traveller trembles at the sound!
But the winds diive it beyond the steep. It sinks
from sight, and darkness prevails.

" Whose fame is in that dark-green tomb," be-
gun the king of generous shells? " four stones
with their heads of moss stand there ! They mark
the narrow house of death. Near it let Ryno rest.
A neighbour to the brave let him lie. Some chief
of feme is here, to fly, with my son, on clouds.
O Ullin, raise the songs of old. Awake their me-
mory in their tomb. If in the field they never
fled, my son shall rest by their side. He shall
rest, far distant from Morven, on Lena's resound-
ing plains!"

AN EPIC POEM. 273

Eiiisode of Laraderg and Gelchoi.«a.

" Here," said the bard of song, " here rest the
first of heroes. Silent is Laniderg* in this place:
Dumb is UUin, king of swords: and who, soft-
smiling from her cloud, shows me her face of love?
Wliy, daughter, why so pale art thou, first of the
maids of Cromla? Dost thou sleep with the foes
in battle, white-bosomed daughter of Tuathal?
thou hast been tl\e love of thousands, but Lam-
derg Avas thy love. He came to Tura's mossy
towers, and, striking his dark buckler, spoke:
' Where is Gelchossa, my love, the daughter of
the noble Tuathal? I left her in the hall of
Tura, when I fought i\dth gi-eat Ulfada.' ' Re-
turn soon, O Lamderg!' she said, ' for here I sit
in grief.' Her white breast rose with sighs. Her
cheek was wet mth teais. But I see her not
coming to meet me; to sooth my soul after war.
Silent is the hall of my joy ! I hear not the voice
of the bard. Brant does not shake his chains at
the gate, glad at the coming of Lamderg. Where
is Gelchossa, my love, the mild daughter of the
generous Tuathal?

" ' Lamderg ! ' says Ferchios, son of Aidon,
* Gelchossa moves stately on Cromla. She and
the maids of the bow pui'sue the flying deer'/

» Lamh-dhearg signifies bloody hand. Gelchossa, white legged. Tua-
thal, surly. Ulfadda, long beard, Ferceois, the conqueror of men.

t Bran is a common name of greyhounds to this day. It is a custom
in the north of Scotland, to give the names of the heroes mentioned in
this poem to their dogs ; a proof that they are familiar to the car, and
their fame generally known.

274 FINGAL,

Episode of Lamderg and Gelchossa.

^ Ferchios !' replied the chief of Cromla, ' no
noise meets the ear of Lamderg! No sound is in
the woods of Lena. No deer fly in my sight. No
panting dog pursues. I see not Gelchossa, my
love, fair as the full moon setting on the hills. Go,
Ferchios, go to AUad*, the gray-haired son of the
rock. His dwelling is in the circle of stones. He
may know of the bright Gelchossa.'

" The son of Aidon went. He spoke to the
ear of age. ' Allad! dwellerof rocks: thou that
tremblest alone ! what saw thine eyes of age ?' ' I
saw,' answered Allad the old, ' UUin the son of
Cairbar. He came, in darkness, from Cromla.
He hummed a sui-ly song, like a blast in a leafless
wood. He entered the hall of Tura.' ' Lam-
derg,' he said, ' most dreadful of men, fight or
yield to Ullin.' ' Lamderg,' replied Gelchossa,
' the son of battle is not here. He fights Ulfada
mighty chief. He is not here, thou first of men!
but Lamderg never yields. He will fight the son
of Cairbar!' ' Lovely art thou,' said terrible Ul-
lin, ' daughter of the generous Tuathal. I carry
thee to Cairbar's halls. The valiant shall have
Gelchossa. Three days I remain on Cromla, to
wait that son of battle, Lamderg. On the fourth
Gelchossa is mine; if the mighty Lamderg flies.'

• Allad is a druid : he is called the son of the rock, from his dwelling
in a cave ; and the circle of stones here mentioned is the pale of the dru-
idical temple. He is here consulted as one who had a supernatural
knowledge of things ; from the druids, no doubt, came the ridiculous
notion of the second sight which prevailed in the highlands and isles^

AN EPIC POEM.

Episode of Lamderg and Gelchossa.

" ' Allad!' said the chief of Ciomla, ' peace to
thy dreams in the cave. Ferchios, sound the horn
of Lamderg:, that UlUn may hear in his halls.'
Lamderg, like a roaring storm, ascended the hill
from Tura. He hummed a surly song as he went,
like the noise of a faUing stream. He darkly stood
upon the hill, like a cloud varying its form to the
wind. He rolled a stone, the sign of war. Ullin
heard in Cairbar's hall. The hero heard, with joy,
his foe. He took his father's spear. A smile
brightens his dark-broAvn cheek, as he places his
sword by his side. The dagger glittered in his
hand. He whistled as he went.

" Gelchossa saw the silent chief, as a wreath of
mist ascending the hill. She struck her white and
heaving breast : and, silent, tearful, feared for Lam-
derg. * Cairbar, hoary chief of shells,' said the
maid of the tender hand, ' I must bend the bow
on Cromla, I see the dark-brown hinds!' She
hasted up the hill. In vain! the gloomy heroes
fought. Why should I tell to Selma's king how
wrathful heroes fight ? Fierce Ullin fell. Young
Lamderg came, all pale, to the daughter of gene-
rous Tuathal! ' What blood, my love?' she
trembling said, ' what blood runs down my war-
rior's side ?' ' It is UUin's blood,' the chief re-
plied, ' thou fairer than the snow ! Gelchossa,
let me rest here a little while.' The mighty Lam-
derg died! * And sleepest thou so soon on earth,
O chief of shady Tura ?' Three days she mourned
beside her love. The hunters found her cold.

276 FINGAL,

They raised this tomb above the three. Thy son,
O king of Morven, may rest here with heroes!"

" And here my son shall rest," said Fingal.
" The voice of their fame is in mine ears. Fillan
and Fergus ! bring hither Orla ; the pale youth of
the stream of Lota ! Not unequalled shall Ryno
lie in earth, when Orla is by his side. Weep, ye
daughters of Morven! ye maids of the streamy
Lota, weep! Like a tree they grew on the hills.
They have fallen like the oak of the desert ; when
it lies across a stream, and withers in the wind.
Oscar I chief of every youth! thou seest how they
have fallen. Be thou, like them, on earth renown-
ed. Like them the song of bards. Terrible were
their forms in battle ; but calm was Ryno in the
days of peace. He was like the bow of the
shower, seen far distant on the stream; when the
sun is setting on Mora; when silence dwells on
the hill of deer. Rest, youngest of my sons !
rest, O Ryno ! on Lena. We too shall be. no
more. Warriors one day must fall I"

Such was thy gi'ief, thou king of swords, when
Ryno lay on earth. What must the grief of Os-
sian be, for thou thyself ait gone ! I liear not thy
distant voice on Cona. My eyes perceive thee
not. Often forlorn and dai"k I sit at thy tomb ;
and feel it with my hands. When I think I hear
thy voice, it is but the passing blast. Fingal has
long since fallen asleep, the mler of the war !

Then Gaul and Ossian sat ^vith Swaran, on the
soft green banks of Lubar. I touched the Iiarp to

AN Eric POEM.

solable at losing the second battle against Swai

please the kiiij^. But gloomy was his brow. He
rolled his red eyes towards Lena. The hero
iiiounied his host. I raised mine eyes to Cromla's
brow. I saw the son of generous Semo. Sad and
slow he retired from his hill, towards the lonely
cave of Tura. He saw Fingal victorious, and
mixed his joy Avith grief. The sun is bright on his
armour. Connal slowly strode behind. They
sunk behind the hill, like two pillars of the fire of
night ; when Avinds pursue them over the moun-
tain, and the flaming heath resounds ! Beside a
stream of roaring foam his cave is in a rock. One
tree bends above it. The rushing A\dnds echo
against its sides. Here rests the chief of Erin,
the son of generous Semo. His thoughts are on
tlie battles he lost. The tear is on his cheek. He
mourned the departure of his fame, that fled like
the mist of Cona. O Bragela! thou art too far
remote to cheer the soul of the hero. But let him
see thy bright form in his mind : that his thoughts
may return to the lonely sini-beam of his love.

Who comes ^\^th the locks of age ? It is the
son of songs. " Hail, Carril of other times ! Thy
voice is hke the hai-p, in the halls of Tura. Thy
Avords are pleasant as the shoAver AA'hich falls on
the sunny field. Carril of the times of old, Avhy
comest thou from the son of the generous Semo !"

" Ossian, king of sAvords," replied the bard,
" thou best can raise the song. Long hast thou
been knoAA^n to Canil, thou ruler of war ! Often
have I touched the harp to lovely E\dralUn. Thou

VOL. I. 2a'

278 FINGAL.

The conversation ofOssian and Carril.

too hast often joined my voice, in Branno's hall of
generous shells. And often, amidst our voices,
was heard the mildest Evirallin. One day she
sung of Cormac's fall, the youth who died for lier
love. I saw the tears on her cheek, and on thine,
thou chief of men ! Her soul was touched for
the unhappy, though she loved him not. How
fair, among a thousand maids, was the daughter of
generous Branno !"

" Bring not, Carril," I repUed, " hring not
her memory to my mind. My soul must melt at
the remembrance ; my eyes must have their tears.
Pale in the earth is she, the softly-blushing fair of
my love ! But sit thou on the heath, O bard ! and
let us hear thy voice. It is pleasant as the gale of
spring, that sighs on the hunter's ear; when he
awakens from dreams of joy, and has heard the
music of the spirits of the hill!"

FINGAL.

BOOK SIXTH.

ARGUMENT.

Night comes on. Fingal gives a feast to his army, at ivhivh
Swaran is present. The king commands Ullin, his bard,
to give the song of peace ; a custom always observed at the
end of a ivar. Ullin relates the actions of Trenmor, great
grandfather to Fingal, in Scandinavia, and his marriage
•with Inibaca, the daughter of a king of Lochlin who was
ancestor to Swaran; "which coiisideration, together with
his being brother to Agandecca, with whom Fingal was in
love in his youth, induced the king to release him, and to
permit him to return, with the remains of his army, into
Lochlin, upon his promise of never returning to Irelandin
a hostile manner. The night is spent in settling Swaran^s
departure, in songs of bards, and in a conversation in which
the story of Grumal is introduced by Fingal. Morning
comes. Swaran departs. Fingalgoes on a h?inting party,
and finding Cuthullin in the cave of Tura, comforts him,
and sets sail, the next day, for Scotland ,* which concludes
the poem.

FINGAL.

BOOK SIXTH.

The clouds of night come rolling down. Dark-
ness rests on the steeps of Cromla. The stars of
the north arise over the rolling of Erin's waves :
they show their heads of fire, through the flying
mist of heaven. A distant wind roars in the
wood. Silent and dark is the plain of death!
Still on the dusky Lena, arose in my ears the
voice of Carril. He sung of the friends of our
youth ; the days of former years ; when we met
on the hanks of Lego: when we sent round the
joy of the shell. Cromla answered to his voice.
The ghosts of those he sung came in their rustling
winds. They were seen to bend with joy, towards
the sound of their praise !

Be thy soul blest, O Caml; in the midst of thy
eddpng winds. O that thou wouldst come to my
hall, when I am alone by night ! And thou dost
come, my friend. I hear often thy light hand on my
harp ; when it hangs on the distant wall, and the
feeble sound touches my ear. Why dost thou not
speak to me in my trrief, and tell when I shall be-
^ 2a2

282 FINGAL,

hold my fi-iends ? But thou passest away in thy
murmuring blast ! the wind whistles through the
gray hair of Ossian.

Now, on the side of Mora, the heroes gathered
to the feast. A thousand aged oaks are burning to
the wind. The strength * of the shells goes round.
The souls of warriors brighten with joy. But the
king of Lochlin is silent. Soitow reddens in the
eyes of his pride. He often turned towards Lena.
He remembered that he fell. Fingal leaned on the
shield of his fathers. His gray locks slowly waved
on the wind, and glittered to the beam of night.
He saw the grief of Swai*an, and spoke to the first
of bards.

Raise, UlHn, raise the song of peace. O sooth
my soul from war ! Let mine ear forget, in thy
sound, the dismal noise of arms. Let a hundred
harps be near to gladden the king of Lochlin. He
must depart fi'om us with joy. None ever went
sad from Fingal. Oscar! the lightning of my sword
is against the strong in fight. Peaceful it lies by
my side when warriors yield in war.

" Trenmor,-|- " said the mouth of songs, " lived

* The ancient Celtae brewed beer, and they were no strangers to mead.
Several ancient poems mention wax lights and wine as common in the
halls of Fingal. The Caledonians, in their frequent incursions to the
province, might become acquainted with those conveniences of life, and
introduce them into their own country, among the booty which they !
carried from South Britain.

t Trenmor was the great grandfather to Fingal. The story is intro-
duced to facilitate the dismission of Swaran.

AN EPIC POEM. 283

Lllin relates the actToi)s<ifTrenmor, great grandfatlier of I'inu-.il.

in the days of otlier years. He bounded over tlie
waves of the north, companion of the storm ! Tlie
high rocks of the land of LocliUn, its groves of
mm-mming somids, appeared to the hero through
mist : he bound his white-bosomed sails. Tren-
mor pursued the boar, tliat roared through the
woods of Gormal. IVIany had Hed from its pre-
sence : but it rolled in death on the spear of Tren-
mor. Three chiefs, who beheld the deed, told of
the mighty stranger. They told that he stood,
like a pillar of fire, in the bright arms of his valour.
The king of Lochlin prepared the feast. He called
the blooming Trenmor. Three days he feasted at
Gormal's T\andy towers ; and received his choice
in the combat. The land of Lochlin had no hero
that yielded not to Trenmor. The shell of joy
went round with songs, in praise of the king of
Morven. He that came over the waves, the first
of mighty men !

" Now when the fomth gray mom arose, the
hero launched his ship. He walked along the
silent shore, and called for the rushing wind ; for
loud and distant he heard the blast murmuring be-
hind the groves. Covered over with arms of steel,
a son of the woody Gormal appeared. Red Avas
his cheek and fair his hair. His skin like the snow
of Morven. Mild rolled his blue and smiling eye,
when he spoke to the king of swords.

" ' Stay, Trenmor, stay, thou first of men, thou
hast not conquered Lonval's son. My sword has
often met the brave. The wise shun the strength

281 FINCIAL,

The history of Trenmoi continued.

of my bow.' ' Thou fair-haired youth,' Trenmor
replied, ' I will not fight Avitli Lonval's son. Tliine
arm is feeble, sun-beam of youth ! Retire to Gor-
mal's dark brown liinds.' ' But I will retire,' re-
plied the youth, ' with the sword of Trenmor ; and
exult in the sound of my fame. The virgins shall
gather with smiles around him who conquered
mighty Trenmor. They shall sigh with the sighs
of love, and admire the length of thy spear, when
I shall carry it among thousands ; when I lift the
glittering point to the sun.'

" ' Thou shalt never carry my spear,' said the
angiy king of Morven. ' Thy mother shall find
thee pale on the shore ; and looking over the dark-
blue deep, see the sails of him that slew her son !'
' I will not lift the spear,' replied the youth, ' my
arm is not strong Avith years. But, with the
feathered dart, I have leanied to pierce a distant
foe. Throw down that heavy mail of steel. Tren-
mor is covered fi'om death. I first, will lay my
mail on earth. Throw now thy dart, thou king
of Morven !' He saw the heaving of her breast.
It was the sister of the king. She liad seen him
in the hall : and loved his face of youth. The
spear dropt from the hand of Trenmor : he bent
his red cheek to the giound. She was to him a
beam of light that meets the sons of the cave ; when
they revisit the fields of the sun, and bend their
aching eyes !

" ' Chief of the windy Morven,' begun the maid
of the arms of snow, ' let me rest in thy bounding

AN EVW I'OEM. 2^5

ship, far from the love of Corlo. For he, like the
thunder of the desert, is temble to Inibaca. He
loves me in the gloom of pride. He shakes ten
thousand spears !' ' Rest thou in peace,' said the
mighty Trenmor, ' rest behind the shield of my
fathers. I will not fly from the chief thougliJie
sliakes ten thousand spears !' Three days he Avaited
on the shore. He sent his horn abroad. He called
Corlo to battle, from all his echoing hills. But
Corlo came not to battle. The king of Lochlin
descends from his hall. He feasted on the roaring
shore. He gave the maid to Trenmor !"

" King of Lochlin," said Fingal, " thy blood
flows in the veins of thy foe. Our fathers met in
battle, because they loved the strife of spears. But
often did they feast in the hall : and send round
the joy of the shell. Let thy face brighten with
gladness, and thine ear delight in the harp. Dread-
ful as the storm of thine ocean, thou hast poured thy
valour forth ; thy voice has been like the voice of
thousands when they engage in war. Raise, to-
morrow, raise thy white sails to the wind, thou
brother of Agandecca! Bright as the beam of
noon, she comes on my mournful soul. I have
seen thy tears for the fair one. I spared thee in
the halls of Starno ; Avhen my sword was red with
slaughter ; when my eye Avas full of tears for the
maid. Or dost thou choose the fight ? The combat
Avhich thy fathers gave to Trenmor is thine ! that
thou mayest depart renowned, like the sun setting
in the west !"

286 FINGAL,

Swaran is penetrated with gratitude to Fingal.

" King of the race of Morven," said the chief of
resounding Lochlin ! " never will Swaran fight with
thee, first of a thousand heroes ! I have seen thee
in the halls of Stamo : few were thy years beyond
my own. When shall I, I said to my soul, lift the
spear like the noble Fingal? We have fought
heretofore, O wamor, on the side of the shaggy
Malmor ; after my waves had earned me to thy
halls, and the feast of a thousand shells was spread.
Let the bards send his name who overcame to fu-
ture years, for noble was the strife of Malmor !
But many of the ships of Lochlin have lost their
youths on Lena. Take these, thou king of Mor-
ven, and be the ft-iend of Swaran ? When thy sons
shall come to Gormal, the feast of shells shall be
spread, and the combat offered on the vale."

" Nor ship," replied the king, " shall Fingal take,
nor land of many hills. The desert is enough to
me, with all its deer and woods. Rise on thy
waves again, thou noble friend of Agandecca !
Spread thy white sails to the beam of the morning ;
return to the echoing hills of Gormal." " Blest be
thy soul, thou king of shells," said Swaran of the
dark-brown shield. " In peace thou art the gale
of spring. In war the mountain-storm. Take
now my hand in friendship, king of echoing Sel-
ma ! Let thy bards mourn those who fell. Let
Erin give the sons of Lochlin to earth. Raise
high the mossy stones of theii' fame ! that the
children of the north hereafter may behold the
place where their fathers fought. The hunter

AN EPIC POEM. 987

Carril otl'ers to Finpal the sword of the noble Cuthullin.

may say, when he leans on a mossy tomb, liere
Fingal and Swaran foupjlit, the heroes of other
years. Thus hereafter shall he say, and our fame
shall last forever !"

*' Swaran," said the king of hills, " to-day our
fame is greatest. We shall pass away like a dream.
No sound will remain in our fields of war. Our
tombs wdll be lost in the heath. The hunter shall
not know the place of our rest. Our names may
be heard in song. What avails it, when our
strength hath ceased ? O Ossian, Can-il, and Ul-
lin ! you know of heroes that are no more. Give
us the song of other years. Let the night pass
away on the sound, and morning return with joy."

We gave the song to the kings. An hundred
hai-ps mixed their sound with our voice. The
face of Swaran brightened, like the full moon of
heaven ; when the clouds vanish away, and leave
her calm and broad, in the midst of the sky !

" WTiere, Carril," said the gi'eat Fingal, " Car-
ril of other times ! where is the son of Semo, the
king of the isle of mist ? has he retired, like the
meteor of death, to the dreary cave of Tura?"
" Cuthullin," said Carril of other times, " lies in
the dreary cave of Tura. His hand is on the sword
of his strength. His thoughts on the battles he
lost. Mournful is the king of spears ; till now un-
conquered in wai'. He sends his sword to rest on
the side of Fingal : for, like the storm of the de-
sert, thou hast scattered all his foes. Take, O
Fingal ! the sword of the hero. His fame is de-

288 FINGAL,

Fiiigal relates the story of Grumal.

parted like mist, when it flies before the rustling
wind, along the brightening vale."

" No," replied the king, " Fingal shall never
take his sword. His arm is mighty in war : his
fame shall never fail. Many have been overcome
in battle ; whose renown arose from their fall. O
Swaran ! king of resounding woods, give all thy
giief away. The vanquished, if brave, are re-
nowned. They are like the sun in a cloud, when
he hides his face in the south, but looks again on
the hills of gi'ass !

" Grumal was a chief of Cona. He sought the
battle on every coast. His soul rejoiced in blood.
His ear in the din of arms. He poured his war-
riors on Craca ; Craca's king met him from his
grove ; for then, within the circle of Brumo,* he
spoke to the stone of power. Fierce was the bat-
tle of the heroes, for the maid of the breasts of
snow. The fame of the daughter of Craca had
reached Grumal at the streams of Cona : he vowed
to have the white-bosomed maid, or die on echo-
ing Craca. Three days they strove together, and
Grumal on the fourth was bound. Far from his
friends they placed him, in the horrid circle of
Brumo ; where often, they said, the ghosts of the
dead howled round the stone of their fear. But
he afterwards shone, like a pillar of the light of
heaven. They fell l)y his mighty hand. Grumal
had all his fame !"

" Raise, ye bards of other times," continued the

• This passage alludes to the religion of the king of Craca.

AN EPIC POEM. 289

gi'eat Fingal, " raise high the praise of heroes ;
that my soul may settle on theii' fame ; that the
mind of Swaran may cease to be sad." They
lay in the heath of Mora. The dark Avmds
rustled over the chiefs. A hundi-ed voices,
at once, arose : a hundred hai-ps were strung.
They sung of other times ; the mighty chiefs
of former years ! Wlien now shall I hear the
bard? When rejoice at the fame of my fa-
thers? The harp is not strung on Morven. The
voice of music ascends not on Cona. Dead,
with the mighty, is the bard. Fame is in the
desert no more.

Morning trembles with the beam of the east ; it
glimmers on Cromla's side. Over Lena is heard
the horn of Swaran. The sons of the ocean ga-
thered around. Silent and sad they rise on the
wave. The blast of Erin is behind their sails.
White, as tlie mist of Morven, they float along the
sea. " Call," said Fingal, " call my dogs, the
long-bounding sons of the chase. Call white-
breasted Bran, and the surly strength of Luath !
Fillan and Hjno ! — but he is not here ! — My son
rests on the bed of death. Fillan and Fergus ! blow
the horn, that the joy of the chase may arise ; that
the deer of Cromla may hear and start at the lake
of roes !"

The sluill sound spreads along the wood. The
sons of heathy Cromla arise. A thousand dogs
fly off at once, gray-bounding through the heath.

290 riNGAL,

A deer fell by every dog ; three by the white-
breasted Bran. He brought them, in their flight,
to Fingal, that the joy of the king might be gi-eat !
One deer fell at the tomb of Ryno. The giief of
Fingal returned. He saw how peaceful lay the
stone of him who was the first at the chase ! " No
more shalt thou rise, O my son ! to partake of the
feast of Cromla. Soon will thy tomb be hid, and
the grass grow rank on thy grave. The sons of
the feeble shall pass along. They shall not know
where the mighty lie.

" Ossian and Fillan, sons of my strength ! Gaul,
chief of the blue steel of war ! let us ascend the
hill to the cave of Tura. Let us find the chief
of the battles of Erin. Are these the walls of
Tura ? Gray and lonely they rise on the heath.
The chief of shells is sad, and the halls are si-
lent and lonely. Come, let us find Cuthullin, and
give him all our joy. But is that Cuthullin, O
Fillan, or a pillar of smoke on the heath ? The
wind of Cromla is on my eyes. I distinguish not
my fi'iend."

" Fingal !" replied the youth, " it is the son of
Semo ! Gloomy and sad is the hero ! His hand
is on his sword. Hail to the son of battle, breaker
of the shields !" " Hail to thee," replied Cuthul-
lin, " hail to all the sons of Morven ! Dehghtful
is thy presence, O Fingal ! it is the sun on Crom-
la ; when the hunter mourns his absence for a sea-
son, and sees him between the clouds. Thy sons

AN EPIC POEM. 291

Fingal comforU the noUe Cuihullin.

are like stars that attend tliy course. They g:ive
light in the night. It is not thus thou hast seen
me, O Fingal ! retui-ning from the wars of thy land :
when the kings of the world * had fled, and joy
returned to the hill of hinds !" " Many are thy
words, Cuthullin," said Connan -|- of small re-
nowTi. " Thy words are many son of Semo, but
where are thy deeds in arms ? Why did we come,
over ocean, to aid thy feeble sword ? Thou flyest
to thy cave of giief, and Connan fights thy battles.
Resign to me these arms of light. Yield them,
thou chief of Erin." •' No hero," replied the chief,
" ever sought the arms of Cuthullin ! and had a
thousand heroes sought them, it were in vain, thou
gloomy youth ! I fled not to the cave of grief, till
Erin failed at her streams."

" Youth of the feeble arm," said Fingal, " Con-
nan, cease thy words ! Cuthullin is renowned in
battle ; tenible over the world. Often have I
heard thy fame, thou stormy chief of Inis-fail.
Spread now thy white sails for the isle of mist.
See Bragela leaning on her rock. Her tender
eye is in tears ; the Avinds lift her long hair from

* This is the only passage in the poem wherein the wars of Fingal
against the Romans are alluded to. The Roman emperor is distin-
guished, in old compositions, by the title oi king of the ivorld.

t Connan was of the family of Morni. He is mentioned in several
other poems, and always appears with the same character. The poet
passed him over in silence, and his behaviour here deserves no better
usage.

292 FINGAL,

Flngal and his sons pass the night with CuthulUn.

her heaving breast. She listens to the breeze
of night, to hear the voice of thy rowers ;* to
hear the song of the sea ! The sound of thy dis-
tant har]) !"

" Long shall she listen in vain. Cuthullin shall
never return ! How can I behold Bragela, to
raise the sigh of her breast ? Fin gal, I was always
victorious, in battles of other spears !" " And
hereafter thou shalt be victorious," said Fingal of
generous shells. " The fame of Cuthullin shall
grow, like the branchy tree of Cromla. Many
battles await thee, O chief ! Many shall be the
wounds of thy hand ! Bring hither, Oscar, the
deer ! Prepai'e the feast of shells. Let our souls
rejoice after danger, and our friends delight in our
presence !"

We sat. We feasted. We sung. The soul of
Cuthullin rose. The strength of his arm returned.
Gladness brightened along his face. Ullin gave
the song ; Carril raised the voice. I joined the
bards, and sung of battles of the spear. Battles !
where I often fought. Now I fight no more !
The fame of my former deeds is ceased. I sit for-
lorn at the tombs of my friends !

Thus the night passed away in song. We brought
back the morning with joy. Fingal arose on the

• The practice of singing wken they row, is universal among the in-
habitants of the north-west coast of Scotland and the isles. It deceives
time, and inspirits the rowers.

i

AN EPIC POEM. 293

Fingal and his heroes set sail for Scotland.

heath, and shook his glittering spear. He moved
first toward tlie plains of Lena. We followed in
all our arms.

" Spread the sail," said the king, " seize the
winds as they pour fiom Lena." We rose on the
wave with songs. We rushed, with joy, through
the foam of the deep.

2 B 2

LATHMON;

^ poem.

ARGUMENT.

Lathmon^ a British prince^ taking advantage of FingaVs
absence on an expedition in Ireland^ made a descent on
Morven, and advanced "within sight ofSelma, the royal re-
sidence. Fingal arrived in the mean time^ and Lathmon
retreated to a hill, where his ariny was surprised by night,
and himself taTcen prisoner, by Ossiaiiand Gaul, the son of
Morni. The poem opens with the first appearance of Fin-
gal on the coast of Morven, and ends, it may he supposed,
about noon the next day.

LATHMON.

Selma, thy halls are silent. There is no sound
in the woods of Morven. The Avave tumbles alone
on the coast. The silent beam of the sun is on the
field. The daughters of Morven come forth, like
the bow of the shower ; they look towards green
Erin for the white sails of the king. He had pro-
mised to return, but the winds of the north arose !

Who pours from the eastern hill, Uke a stream
of darkness ? It is the host of Lathmon. He has
heard of the absence of Fingal. He trusts in the
wind of the north. His soul brightens with joy.
Why dost thou come, O Lathmon ? The mighty
are not in Selma. Why comest thou with thy
forward spear ? W ill the daughters of Morven
fight ? But stop, O mighty stream, in thy com'se !
Does not Lathmon behold these sails ? W^hy dost
thou vanish, Lathmon, like the mist of the lake ?
But the squally storm is behind thee : Fingal pur-
sues thy steps !

The king of Morven had started from sleep, as
we rolled on the dark blue wave. He stretched his
hand to his spear ; his heroes rose around. We.
knew that he had seen his fathers, for they often
descended to his dreams, when the sword of the

298 LATHMON.

Fingal arrives at Morven from Ireland.

foe rose over the land; and the battle darkened
before us. " Whither hast thou fled, O wind ?"
said the king of Morven. " Dost thou rustle in
the chambers of the south? Pursuest thou the
shower in other lands ? Why dost thou come to
my sails ? to the blue of my seas ? The foe is
in the land of Morven, and the king is absent far.
But let each bind on his mail, and each assume
his shield. Stretch every spear over the wave ;
let every sword be unsheathed. Lathmon * is be-
fore us with his host : he that fled f fi'om Fingal
on the plains of Lona. But he returns like a col-
lected stream, and his roar is between our hills."

Such were the words of Fingal. We rushed
into Carmona's bay. Ossian ascended the hill :
he thrice struck his bossy shield. The rock of
Morven replied ; the bounding roes came forth.
The foe was troubled in my presence : he collec-
ted his darkened host. I stood, like a cloud on
the hill, rejoicing in the arms of my youth.

Monii J sat beneath a tree, at the roarmg wa-

' It was said by tradition, that it was the intelligence of Lathmon 's
invasion that occasioned Fingal's return from Ireland; though Ossian,
more poetically, ascribes the cause of Fingal's knowledge to his dream.

t He alludes to a battle wherein Fingal had defeated Lathmon.

X Morni was chief of a numerous tribe in the days of Fingal, and his
father, Comhal. The last mentioned hero was killed in battle against
Morni's tribe ; but the valour and conduct of Fingal reduced them, at
last, to obedience. We find the two heroes perfectly reconciled in
this poem.

LATHMON. 299

Gaul, join the standard of Flngal.

ters of Stnimon : * his locks of age are gray : he
leans fon\'ard on his staif ; young Gaul is near the
hero, hearing the battles of his father. Often did
he rise, in the fire of his soul, at the mighty deeds
of Momi. The aged heard the sound of Ossian's
shield : he knew the sign of war. He started at
once from his place. His gray hair parted on his
back. He remembered the deeds of other years.

" My son," he said to fair-haired Gaul, " I hear
the sound of war. The king of Morven is returned,
his signals are spread on the wind. Go to the
halls of Stnimon ; bring his arms to Morni. Bring
the shield of my father's latter years, for my arm
begins to fail. Take thou thy armour, O Gaul !
and i-ush to the first of thy battles. Let thme arm
reach to the reno^Ti of thy fathers. Be thy course
in the field, like the eagle's wing. Why shouldst
thou fear death, my son? the valiant fall with
fame ; their shields turn the dark stream of danger
away ; reno\\Ti dwells on their aged hairs. Dost
thou not see, O Gaul ! how the steps of my age
are honoured ? Momi moves forth, and the young
meet him, with awe, and turn their eyes, with si-
lent joy, on his course. But I never fled from
danger, my son ! My sword Hghtened through
the darkness of war. The stranger melted before
me ; the mighty were blasted in my presence."

Gaul brought the arms to Morni : the aged war-

* Stru'mone, stream of the hill. Here the proper name of a rivulet
in tlie neighbourhood of S ehna.

300 LATHMON.

Interesting conversation betwixt Fingal and Moini.

rior is covered with steel. He took the speai- in
his hand, which was stained with the blood of the
vahant. He came towards Fingal : his son attended
his steps. The son of Comhal arose before him
with joy, when he came in his locks of age.

" Chief of roaring Strumon !" said the rising son
of Fingal ; " do I behold thee in arms, after thy
strength has failed ? Often has Monii shone in
fight, like the beam of the ascending sun ; when
he disperses the storms of the hill, and brings peace
to the glittering fields. But why didst thou not
rest in thine age ? Thy renown is in the song.
The people behold thee, and bless the departure
of mighty Morni. Why didst thou not rest in
thine age ? The foe will vanish before Fingal I"

" Son of Comhal," replied the chief, " the
strength of Morni's arm has failed. I attempt to
draw the sword of ray youtli, but it remains in its
place. I throw the spear, but it falls short of the
mark. I feel the weight of my shield. We decay
like the grass of the hill : our strength returns no
more. I have a son, O Fingal ! his soul has de-
lighted in Morni's deeds ; but his sword has not
been lifted against a foe, neither has his fame be-
gun. I come with him to war ; to direct his arm
in fight. His renown will be a light to my soul,
in the dark hour of my departure. O that the
name of Morni Avere forgot among the people !
that the heroes would only say, ' Behold the fa-
ther of Gaul !' "

" King of Strumon," Fingal replied, " Gaul

LATH3ION. 301

Fingal and Monil pass th« niglit in hearing the songs of the bards.

shall lift the sword in fight. But he shall lift it
hefore Fingal ; my arm shall defend his youth.
But rest thou in the halls of Selma ; and hear of
our renown. Bid the harp to be strung, and the
voice of the bard to arise, that those who fall may
rejoice in their fame ; and the soul of Momi
brighten Avith joy. Ossian ! thou hast fought in
battles : the blood of strangers is on thy spear :
thy course be with Gaul, in the strife ; but depart
not from the side of Fingal ! lest the foe should
find you alone, and your fame fail in my presence."

'• I saw * Gaul in his arms ; my soul was mixed
with his. The fire of the battle was in his eyes !
he looked to the foe with joy. We spoke the
words of friendship in secret ; the lightning of oui*
swords poured together ; for we drew them be-
hind the wood, and tried the strength of our arais
on the empty air."

Night came do\m on Morven. Fingal sat at
the beam of the oak. jNIorni sat by his side with
all his gray waving locks. Their words were of
other times, of the mighty deeds of their fathers.
Three bards, at times, touched the harp : UUin
was near with his song. He sung of the mighty
Comhal ; but darkness f gathered on Mond's brow.

• Ossian speaks. The contrast between the old and young heroes
is strongly marked. The circumstance of the latter drawing their
swords is well imagined, and agrees with the impatience of young
soldiers just entered upon action.

t Ullin had chosen ill the subject of liis song. The darkness which

2 c

302 LATHMON.

Ossian and Gaul are sent to observe the foe.

He rolled his red eye on Ullin : at once ceased the
song of the bard. Fingal observed the aged hero,
and he mildly spoke. " Chief of Strumon, why
that darkness ? Let the days of other years he
forgot. Our fathers contended in war ; hut we
meet together at the feast. Our swords are turned
on the foe of our land : lie melts before us on the
field. Let the days of our fathers be forgot, hero
of mossy Strumon !"

" King of Morven," replied the chief, " I re-
member thy father with joy. He was terrible in
battle ; the rage of the chief was deadly. My
eyes were full of tears, when the king of heroes
fell. The valiant fall, O Fingal ! the feeble re-
main on the hills ! How many heroes have pas-
sed away, in the days of Morni ! Yet I did not
shun the battle ; neither did I fly from the strife
of the valiant. Now let the friends of Fingal rest ;
for the night is around ; that they may rise, with
strength, to battle against car-borne Lathmon. I
hear the sound of his host, like thunder moving on
the hills. Ossian ! and fair-haired Gaul ! ye are
young and swift in the race. Observe the foes of
Fingal from that woody hill. But approach them
not, your fathers are not near to shield you. Let
not your fame fall at once. The valom- of youth
may fail !"

gathered on Morni's brow did not proceed from any dislike he had to
Comhal's name, though they were foes, but from his fear that the
song would awaken Fingal to a remembrance of the feuds which had
subsisted of old bstween the families. Fingal's speech on this occasion
abounds with generosity and good sense.

LATHMON. 303

The youthful valour ofOssian and Gaul finely described.

We heard the words of the chief with joy. We
moved in the clang of our arms. Our steps are on
the woody hill. Heaven bimis with all its stars.
The meteors of death fly over the field. The dis-
tant noise of the foe reached our ears. It was
then Gaul spoke, in his valoui- : his hand half-un-
sheathed the sword.

" Son of Fingal !" he said, " why bums the
soul of Gaul ? My heart heats high. My steps
are disordered ; my hand trembles on my sword.
When I look towards the foe, my soul lightens be-
fore me. I see theii- sleeping host. Tremble thus
the souls of the \-aliant in battles of the spear ?
How would the soul of Monii rise, if we should
rush on the foe ! Our renown would glow in
song ; our steps would be stately in the eyes of
the brave."

" Son of Momi," I replied, " my soul delights
in wai-. I deUght to shine in battle alone, to give
my name to the bards. But what if the foe should
prevail ; can I behold the eyes of the king ? They
are terrible in his displeasure, and like the flames
of death. But I will not behold them in his WTath !
Ossian shall prevail or fall ! But shall the fame of
the vanquished rise ? They pass like a shade away.
But the fame of Ossian shall rise ! His deeds shall
be like his father's. Let us nish in our arms ; son
of Momi, let us rush to fight. Gaul ! if thou shouldst
retum, go to Selnia's lofty hall. Tell to Evirallin
that I fell with fame : carry this sword to Bran-

304 LATHMON.

1 and Gaul attack the army of Lathmon by night.

no's daughter. Let her give it to Oscar, when
the years of his youth shall arise."

" Son of Fingal/' Gaul replied with a sigh ;
" shall I return after Ossian is low ? What would
my father say, what Fingal the king of men?
The feeble would turn the& eyes and say, " Be-
hold Gaul who left his friend in his blood !" Ye
shall not behold me, ye feeble, but in the midst of
my renown ! Ossian ! I have heard from my fa-
ther the mighty deeds of heroes ; their mighty
deeds when alone ; for the soul increases in dan-
ger."

" Son of Morni," I replied, and strode before
him on the heath, " our fathers shall praise our
valour, when they mourn our fall. A beam of
gladness shall rise on their souls, when their eyes
are full of tears. They will say, ' our sons have
not fallen unknown : they spread death around
them.' But why should we think of the naiTow
house ? The sword defends the brave. But death
pursues the flight of the feeble ; their renown is
never heard."

We rushed forward through night ; we came to
the roar of a stream, which bent its blue course
round the foe, thi-ough trees that echoed to its
sound. We came to the bank of the stream, and
saw the sleeping host. Their fires were decayed
on the plain : the lonely steps of their scouts were
distant far. I stretched my spear before me to
support my steps over the stream. But Gaul took
my hand and spoke the words of the brave. " Shall

LATHMON. 305

The eiploits of Ossian and Gaul.

the son of Fingal rush on the sleeping foe ? Shall
he come like a blast by night, when it overturns
the young trees in secret ? Fingal did not thus
receive his fame, nor dwells renown on the gray
hairs of Morni, for actions like these. Strike,
Ossian, strike the shield, and let their thousands
rise ! Let them meet Gaul in his first battle, that
he may try the strength of his arm."

My soul rejoiced over the warrior : my bursting
teai's came down. " And the foe shall meet thee,
Gaul !" I said : " the fame of Momi's son shall
arise. But rush not too far, my hero : let the
gleam of thy steel be near to Ossian. Let our
hands join in slaughter. Gaul ! dost thou not be-
hold that rock ? Its gray side dimly gleams to
the stars. Should the foe prevail, let our backs be
towards the rock. Then shall they fear to ap-
proach our spears ; for death is in our hands !"

I struck thrice my echoing shield. The starting
foe arose. We rushed on in the sound of our
arms. Their crowded steps fly over the heath.
They thought that the mighty Fingal was come.
The strength of their arms withered away. The
sound of their flight was like that of a flame, when
it rushes through the blasted groves. It was then
the spear of Gaul flew in its strength ; it was then
his sword arose. Cremor fell ! and mighty Leth.
Dunthormo struggled in his blood. The steel
rushed through Crotho's side, as, bent, he rose on
his spear; the black stream poured fiom the wound,
and hissed on the half-extinguished oak. Cath-
2 c 2

306 LATHMON.

The army of Lathmon fly before the youny heroes.

min saw the steps of the hero behind him, he as-
cended a blasted tree ; but the spear pierced him
from behind. Shrieking, panting, he fell. Moss
and withered branches pursue his fall, and strew
the blue arms of Gaul.

Such were thy deeds, son of Monii, in the first
of thy battles. Nor slept the sword by thy side,
thou last of Fingal's race ! Ossian ruslied forward
in his strength; the people fell before him, as tlie
grass by the staff of the boy, when he whistles
along the field, and the giay beard of the
thistle falls. But careless the youth moves on;
his steps are towards the desert. Gray morn-
ing rose around us : the winding streams are bright
along the heath. The foe gathered on a hill; and
the rage of Lathmon rose. He bent the red eye
of his wrath : he is silent in his rising grief. He
often struck his bossy shield; and his steps are
unequal on the heath. I saw the distant darkness
of the hero, and I spoke to Morni's son.

" Car-borne chief of Strumon, dost thou behold
the foe? They gather on the liill in their wrath.
Let our steps be towards the king.* He shall rise
in his strength, and the host of Lathmon vanish.
Om* fame is around us, warrior, the eyes of the
aged t will rejoice. But let us fly, son of Momi,
Lathmon descends the hill." " Then let our steps
be slow," repUed the fair-haired Gaul; " lest the

* Fingal.

t Fingal and Momi.

LATHMON. 307

Lathmon challenges 0&>lan to single combat.

foe say, with a smile, * Behold the Avarriors of
night. They are, hke ghosts, terrible in darkness;
they melt away before the beam of the east.' Os-
sian, take the shield of Gormar, who fell beneath
thy spear. The aged heroes will rejoice behold-
ing the deeds of their sons."

Such were our words on the plain, when Sul-
math * came to car-borne Lathmon : Sulmath
chief of Dutha at the dark-rolling stream of Duv-
rannaf. Why dost thou not rush, son of Nuath,
with a thousand of thy heroes? Why dost thou
not descend with thy host, before the warriors fly.
Theii* blue arms are beaming to the rising light,
and their steps are before us on the heath ! "

" Son of the feeble hand," said Latlunon, " shall
my host descend ! They are but two, son of Du-
tha ! shall a thousand lift their steel! Nuath
would mourn, in his hall, for the departure of his
fame. His eyes would turn from Lathmon, when
the tread of his feet approached. Go thou to the
heroes, chief of Dutha ! I behold the stately steps
of Ossian. His fame is worthy of my steel ! Let
us contend in fight."

The noble Sulmath came. I rejoiced in the
words of the king. I raised the shield on my arm ;

• Suil-mhath, a man of good eyesight.

t Dabh-brana, dark-inountain stream. A river in Scotland, which
falls into the sea at Banff, still retains the name of Duvran. If that
is meant in this passage, Lathmon must have been a prince of the
Pictish nation, or those Caledonians who inhabited of old the eastern
coast of Scotland.

308 LATHMON.

inijuishes Lathmon.

Gaul placed in my hand the sword of Morni. We
returned to the murmuring stream ; Lathmon came
down in his strength. His dark host rolled, like
clouds, behind him : but the son of Nuath was
bright in his steel !

" Son of Fingal," said the hero, " thy fame has
grown on oui- fall. How many lie there of my
people by thy hand, thou king of men ! Lift now
thy spear against Lathmon ; lay the son of Nuath
low ! Lay him low among his waiTiors, or thou
thyself must fall ! It shall never be told in my
halls that my people fell in my presence ; that they
fell in the presence of Lathmon when his sword
rested by his side : the blue eyes of Cutha would
roll in tears ; her steps be lonely in the vales of
Dunlathmon !"

" Neither shall it be told," I replied, " that the
son of Fingal fled. Were his steps covered with
darkness, yet would not Ossian fly ! His soul
would meet him, and say, * Does the bard of Sel-
ma fear the foe ?' No : he does not fear the foe.
His joy is in the midst of battle !"

Lathmon came on with his spear. He pierced
the shield of Ossian. I felt the cold steel by my
side. I drew the sword of Morni. I cut the spear
in twain. The bright point fell glittering on earth.
The son of Nuath burnt in his %\Tath. He lifted
high his sounding shield. His dark eyes rolled
above it, as, bending forward, it shone like a gate
of brass ! But Ossian's spear pierced the bright-
ness of its bosses, and sunk in a tree that rose be-

LATHMOxX. 309

Fingal and Mornl praise the deeds of their S(

hind. The shield hung on the quivering lance!
but Lathmon still advanced ! Gaul foresaw the
fall of the chief. He stretched his buckler before
my sword ; when it descended, in a stream of Ught,
over the king of Dunlathmon !

Lathmon beheld the son of Momi. The tear
started fi-om his eye. He threw the sword of his
fathers on earth, and spoke the words of the brave.
" Why should Lathmon fight against the first of
men ? Your souls are beams from heaven ; youi*
swords the flames of death ! Who can equal the
renowTi of the heroes, whose deeds are so great in
youth ? O that ye were in the halls of Nuath, in
the green dweUii^ of Lathmon ! Then would my
father say, that his son did not yield to the weak.
But Avho comes a mighty stream, along the echo-
ing heath ? The little hills are troubled before him;
a thousand ghosts are on the beams of his steel ;
the ghosts of those who are to fall * by the king of
resounding Morven. Happy art thou, O Fingal !
thy sons shall fight thy wars. They go forth before
thee ; they return with the steps of their reno^Ti !"

Fingal came, in his mildness, rejoicing in secret
over the deeds of his son. Momi's face brightened
\Wth gladness ; his aged eyes look faintly through
tears of joy. We came to the halls of Selma. We
sat around the feast of shells. The maids of song

* It was thought, in Ossian's time, that each person had his at-
tending spirit. The traditions concerning this opinion are dark anrt
unsatisfactory.

310 LATHMON.

Fingal dismisses Lathmon and his army.

came into our presence, and the mildly blushing
Evirallin ! Her hair spreads on her neck of snow,
her eye rolls in secret on Ossian. She touched the
harp of music ; we blessed the daughter of Branno !
Fingal rose in his place, and spoke to Lathmon,
king of spears. The sword of Trenmor shook by
liis side, as high he raised his mighty arm. " Son
of Nuath," he said, " why dost thou search for
fame in Morven ? We are not of the race of the
feeble ; our swords gleam not over the weak. When
did we rouse thee, O Lathmon ! with the sound of
war ? Fingal does not delight in battle, though his
arm is strong ! My renown grows on the fall of
the haughty ; the light of my steel pours on the
proud in arms. The battle comes ! and the tombs
of the valiant rise ; the tombs of my people rise, O
my fathers ! I at last must remain alone ! But I
will remain renowned ; the departure of my soul
shall be a stream of light. Lathmon ! retire to thy
place ! Turn thy battles to other lands ! The race
of Morven are renowned ; their foes are the sons of
the unhappy !"

DART HULA:

^ Poem.

ARGUMENT.

It may he proper here to give the story xvhich is the founda-
tion ofthispoem^ as it is handed down by tradition. Us-
noth^ lord of Etha^ which is probably that part of Argyll,
shire which is near Loch Eta, an arm of the sea in Lorn,
had three sons, Nathos, Althos, and Ardan, by Slissama,
the daughter of Semo, and sister to the celebrated Cuthul-
lin. The three brotJiers, when very young, were sent over
to Ireland, by their father, to learn the use of arms, under
their uncle Cuthullin, who made a great figure in that king,
dom. They were just landed in Ulster when the news of
Cuthullin'' s death arrived. Nathos, though very young,
took the command of Cuthullin'' s army, made head against
Cairbar the usurper, and defeated him hi several battles.
Cairbar at last having found means to murder Cor mac the
lawful king, the army of Nathos shifted sides, andhe him-
self was obliged to return into Ulster, in order to pass over
into Scotland.

Dar.thula, the daughter ofColla, with whom Cairbar was in
love, resided, at that time, in Selama, a castle in Ulster:
she saw, fell in love, and fled with Nathos ; but a storm
rising at sea, they were unfortunately driven back on that
part of Ulster where Cairbar was eiicamped with his army.
The three brothers, after Jiaving defended themselves for
some tiine, with great bravery, were overpowered and slain,
and the unfortunate Dar-thula killed herself upon thebody
of her beloved Nathos.

The poem opens, on the night preceding the death of the sons
of Usnoth, and brings in, by way of episode, what passed
before. It relates the death of Dar-thula differently from
tlie common tradition: this account is the most probable,
as suicide seems to have been unknown in those early times :
for no trace of it is found in the old poetry.

DAR-THULA.

Daughter of heaven, fair art thou ! the silence
of thy face is pleasant ! Thou comest forth in love-
liness. The stars attend thy blue course in the east.
The clouds rejoice in thy presence, O moon ! They
brighten their dark-broAvn sides. \Mio is like thee
in heaven, light of the silent night ? The stars are
ashamed in thy presence. They tuni away their
sparkUng eyes. WTiither dost thou retire from
thy course, when the darkness of thy countenance
gi'ows ? Hast thou thy hall, like Ossian ? Dwell-
est thou in the shadow of grief? Have thy sisters
fallen fi-om heaven ? Are they who rejoiced ^dth
thee at night, no more ? Yes ! they have fallen,
fair hght! and thou dost often retire to mourn.
But thou thyself shalt fail, one night ; and leave
thy blue path in heaven. The stars will then lift
theu- heads : they, who were ashamed in thy pre-
sence, will rejoice. Thou art now clothed with thy
brightness. Look from thy gates in the sky. Burst
the cloud, O wind ! that the daughter of night may
look forth ! that the shaggy mountains may brighten,
and the ocean roll its white waves in light.

Nathos * is on the deep, and Althos, that beam

* Nathos signifies yoM/^yW, Ailthos e:fquisite bcaiitt/, Ardan pride.
VOL. I. 2d

314 DAR-THULA.

Nathos, Althos, and Ardan drove, by contrary wimls, on Cairbar'i coast.

of youth. Ardan is near his brothers. They move
in the gloom of their course. The sons of Usnoth
move in darkness, from the ^Tath of Cairbar * of
Erin. Who is that dim by their side ? The night
has covered her beauty ! Her hair eighs on ocean's
wind. Her robe streams in dusky wreaths. She
is Hke the fair spirit of heaven in the midst of his
shadowy mist. Who is it but Dar-thula,f the first
of Erin's maids ? She has fled fi-om the love of
Cairbar, with blue-shielded Nathos. But the winds
deceive thee, O Dar-thula ! They deny the woody
Etha to thy sails. These are not the mountains of
Nathos ; nor is that the roar of his climbing waves.
The halls of Cairbar are near : the towers of the foe
lift their heads ! Erin stretches its green head
into the sea: Tura's bay receives the ship. Where
have ye been, ye southern winds ! when the sons
of my love were deceived ? But ye have been
sporting on plains, pursuing the thistle's beard. — O
that ye had been rustling in the sails of Nathos, till
the hills of Etha arose ; till they arose in their
clouds, and saAv their returning chief ! Long hast
thou been absent, Nathos ! The day of thy re-
turn is past.

* Cairbar who murdered Cormac, king of Ireland, and usurped the
throne. He was afterwards killed by Oscar the son of Ossian in a sin-
gle combat. The poet, upon other occasions, gives hiin the epithet of
red-haired,

t Darthula, or Dart-'huilc, a woman with fine eyes. She was the
most famous beauty of antiquity. To this day, when a woman is
praised for her beauty, the common phrase is, that she is lovely as Dar-
thula.

DAR-THULA. 315

The soUloquj- of Dar-thula.

But tlie land of strangers saw thee, lovely ! thou
wast lovely in the eyes of Dar-thula. Thy face
was like the light of the moniing. Thy hair like
the raven's wing. Thy soul was generous and
mild, like the houi' of the setting sun. Thy words
were the gale of the reeds ; the gliding stream of
Lora ! But when the rage of battle rose, thou
wast a sea in a storm. The clang of thy arms was
terrible : the host vanished at the sound of thy
course. It Avas then Dar-thula beheld thee, from
the top of her mossy tower : fi'om the tower of Se-
lama,* where her fathers dwelt.

" Lovely art thou, O stranger!" she said, for her
trembling soul arose. " Fair art thou in thy bat-
tles, friend of the fallen Cormac.f Why dost
thou rush on, in thy valour, youth of the ruddy
look? Few are thy hands in fight, against the
dark-browed Cairbar ! O that I might be freed
from his love,:j: that I might rejoice in the presence
of Nathos ! Blest ai-e the rocks of Etha ! they will
behold his steps at the chase ! they will see his
white bosom, when the winds lift his flowing hair !"
Such were thy words, Dar-thula, in Selama's mossy

» The word signifies either beautiful to behold, or a place with a plea-
sant or wide prospect. In early times, they built their houses upoa
eminences, to command a view of the country, and to prevent thei?
being surprised : many of them, on that account, were called Selama.
The famous Selma of Fingal is derived from the same root.

t Cormac the young king of Ireland, who was privately murdered by
Cairbar.

X That is, the love of Cairbar.

316 DAR-THULA.

Nathos sends Altbos and Ardan tc

towers. — But, now, the night is around thee. The
winds have deceived thy sails. The winds have
deceived thy sails, Dar-thula! Their blustering
sound is high. Cease a Uttle while, O north wind !
Let me liear the voice of the lovely. Thy voice is
lovely, Dar-thula, between the rustling blasts !

" Are these the rocks of Nathos ?" she said,
" this the roar of liis mountain streams ? Comes
that beam of light from Usnoth's nightly hall?
The mist spreads around ; the beam is feeble, and
distant far. But the light of Dar-thula's soul dwells
in the chief of Etha ! Son of the generous Us-
noth, why that broken sigh ? Are we in the land
of strangers, chief of echoing Etha ?"

" These are not the rocks of Nathos," he re-
plied, " nor this the roar of his streams. No light
comes from Etha's halls, for they are distant far.
We are in the land of strangers — in the land of
cruel Cairbar. The winds have deceived us,
Dar-thula ! Erin lifts here her hills. Go towards
the north, Althos : be thy steps, Ardan, along the
coast ; that the foe may not come in darkness, and
our hopes of Etha fail. I Avill go towards that
mossy tower, to see who dwells about the beam.
Rest, Dar-thula, on the shore ! rest in peace, thou
lovely light ! the sword of Nathos is around thee,
like the lightning of heaven !"

He went. She sat alone ; she heard the rolling
of the wave. The big tear is in her eye. She
looks for returning Nathos. Her soul trembles at
the blast. She turns her ear towards the tread of

BAR-THULA. 317

ntofthe death of hei friends.

Ills feet. The tread of his feet is not heard.
" Where art thou, son of my love ? The roar of
the blast is around me. Dark is the cloudy night.
But Nathos does not retuni. What detains thee,
chief of Etha ? Have the foes met the hero in
the strife of the night ?"

He retuiTied, but his face was dark. He had
seen his departed friend ! It was the wall of Tui-a.
The ghost of Cuthullin stalked there alone : the
sighing of his breast was fi-equent. The decayed
flame of his eyes was teiTible. His speai* was a
column of mist. The stars looked dim through
his form. His voice was like hollow wind in a
cave : his eye a light seen afar. He told the tale
of grief. The soul of Nathos was sad, like the
sun in the day of mist, when his face is watery and
dim.

" Why ait thou sad, O Nathos ?" said the lovely
daughter of Colla. " Thou art a pillar of light to
Dar-timla. The joy of her eyes is in Etha's chief.
Where is my friend, but Nathos? My father,
my brother is fallen ! Silence dwells on Selama.
Sadness spreads on the blue streams of my land.
My friends have fallen with Connac. The mighty
were slain in the battles of Erin. Hear, son of
Usnoth ! hear, O Nathos ! my tale of gi-ief : —

" Evening darkened on the plain. The blue
streams failed before my eyes. The unfiequent
blast came rustling in the tops of Selama's gi'oves.
My seat was beneath a tree, on the walls of my
fathers. Truthil passed before my soul: the brother
2 D 2

318 DAR-THULA.

It of the death of her father.

of my love : he that was absent in battle, against
the haughty Cairbar ! Bending on his spear, the
gray-haired CoUa came. His downcast face is
dark, and soitow dwells in his soul. His sword
is on the side of the hero : the helmet of his fathers
on his head. The battle grows in his breast. He
strives to hide the tear.

" ' Dar-thula, my daughter,' he said, ' thou art
the last of Colla's race ! Truthil is fallen in battle.
The chief of Selama is no more ! Caubar comes,
with his thousands, towards Selama's walls. Colla
will meet his pride, and revenge his son. But
where shall I find thy safety, Dar-thula with the
dark-brown hau* ! thou art lovely as the sunbeam
of heaven, and thy friends are low ! ' Is the son
of battle fallen, I said, with a bursting sigh !
Ceased the generous soul of Truthil to Ughten
through the field ! My safety, Colla, is in that
bow. I have learned to pierce the deer. Is not
Cairbar like the hart of the desert, father of fallen
Truthil?

" The face of age brightened with joy. The
crowded tears of his eyes poured down. The lips
of Colla trembled. His gray beard whistled in the
blast. ' Thou art the sister of Truthil,' he said,
' thou bumest in the fire of his soul. Take, Dar-
thula, take that spear, that brazen shield, that
burnished helm : they are the spoils of a wan-ior,
a son of early youth. When the light rises on
Selama, we go to meet the car-borne Cairbar.
But keep thou near the arm of Colla — beneath the

DAR-THULA. 3 19

It of the (l.-ath of her father.

shadow of my shield. Thy father, Dar-thula,
could once defend thee ; hut age is trembling on
his hand. The strength of his arm has failed. His
soul is darkened with grief.'

" We passed the night in sorrow. The light of
morning rose. I shone in the arms of battle. The
gray-haired hero moved before. The sons of Sela-
ma convened around the sounding shield of Colla.
But few were they in the plain, and their locks
were gray. The youths had fallen ^^'ith Truthil,
in the battle of car-borne Cormac. ' Friends of
my youth !' said Colla, ' it was not thus you have
seen me in arms. It was not thus I strode to
battle, when the gi-eat Confaden fell. But ye are
laden with grief. The darkness of age comes like
the mist of the desert. My shield is worn with
yeai's ! my sword is fixed * in its place ! I said to
my soul, thy evening shall be calm : thy departure
like a fading light. But the storm has returned.
I bend like an aged oak. ]My boughs are fallen
on Selama. I tremble in my place. Where art
thou, with thy fallen heroes, O my beloved Tru-
thil ? Thou answerest not fi'om thy rushing blast.
The soul of thy father is sad. But I will be sad
no more — Cairbar or Colla must fall ! I feel the

• It was the custom of ancient times, that every warrior, at a certain
age, or when he became unfit for the field, fixed his arms in the great
hall, where the tribe feasted upon joyful occasions. He was afterwards
never to appear in battle; and tliis stage of life was called the time of
fixing of llic aiwt,.

320 DAR-THULA.

le death of Jier father.

returning; strength of my ann. My heart leaps at
tlie sound of war.'

" The hero drew his sword. The gleaming
hlades of his people rose. They moved along the
plain. Their giay hair streamed in the wind.
( 'airbar sat at the feast, in the silent plain of Lona.*
He saw the coming of the heroes. He called his
chiefs to war. Why should I tell to Nathos, how
the strife of hattle grew! f I have seen thee, in
the midst of thousands, like the beam of heaven's
fire. It is beautiful, but teixible ; the people fall
in its dreadful course. The spear of Colla flew.
He remembered the battles of his youth. An
anow came with its sound: it pierced the hero's
side. He fell on his echoing shield. My soul
started with fear. I stretched my buckler over
him ; hut my heaving breast was seen. Cairbar
came, with his spear. He beheld Selama's maid.
Joy rose on his dark-broAvn face. He stayed the
lifted steel. He raised the tomb of Colla. He
brought me, weeping, to Selama. He spoke the
words of love, but my soul was sad. I saw the

* Lona, a marshy plain. Cairbar had just provided an entertainment
for his army, upon the defeat of Truthil, the son of Colla, and the rest
of the party of Cormac, when Colla and his aged warriors arrived to
give him battle.

t The poet, by an artifice, avoids the description of the battle of
Lona, as it would be improper in the mouth of a woman, and could
have nothing new, after the numerous descriptions, of that kind, in the
rest of the poems. He at the same time gives an opportunity to Dar-
thula to pass a fine compliment on her lover.

DxVR-THULA. S-21

shields of my fathers ; the t>word of car-boine
Truthil. I saw the arms of the dead ; the tear was
on my dieek ! Then thou did come, O Nathos !
and gloomy Cairbar fled. He fled like the ghost
of the desert before the morning's beam. His host
was not near ; and feeble was his arm against thy
steel ! Why art thou sad, O Nathos ! " said the
lovely daughter of Colla?

" I have met," replied the hero, " the battle in
my youth. My arm could not lift the spear, when
danger first arose. My soul brightened in the
presence of war, as the green nanow vale, when
the sun pours his streamy beams, before he hides
his head in a storm. The lonely traveller feels a
mournful joy. He sees the darlmess, that slowly
comes. My soul brightened in danger before I
saw Selama's fair ; before I saw thee, like a star,
that shines on the hill, at night : the cloud advances
and threatens the lovely light ! We are in the
land of foes. Tlie winds have deceived us, Dar-
thula ! The strength of our friends is not near,
nor the mountains of Etha. W'here shall I find
thy peace, daughter of mighty Colla! The brothers
of Nathos are brave ! and his omi sword has shone
in fight. But what ai'e the sons of Usnoth to the
host of dark-browed Cairbar ! O that the winds
had brought thy sails, Oscar,* king of men! Thou

• Oscar, the son of Ossian, had long resolved on the expedition into
Ireland, against Cairbar, who had assassinated his friend Cathol, the
son of Moran, an Irishman of noble extraction, and in the interest of the
family of Cormac.

322 DAR-THULA.

Dar-thula determines to fight by the side of her lover.

didst promise to come to the battles of fallen Cor-
mac ! Then would my hand be strong, as the
flaming- arm of death. Cairhar would tremble in
liis halls, and peace dwell roimd the lovely Dar-
thula. But why dost thou fall, my soul ? The
80ns of Usnoth may prevail !"

" And they will prevail, O Nathos ! " said the
rising soul of the maid. " Never shall Dar-thula
behold the halls of gloomy Cairhar. Give me
those arms of brass, that glitter to the passing
meteor. I see them dimly in the dark-bosomed
ship. Dar-thula will enter the battle of steel.
Ghost of the noble Colla, do I behold thee on
that cloud ? Who is that dim beside thee ? Is it
the car-borne Truthil? Shall I behold the halls
of him that slew Selama's chief ! No : I will not
behold them, spirits of my love !"

Joy rose in the face of Nathos, when he heard
the white-bosomed maid. " Daughter of Selama !
thou shinest along my soul. Come, with thy
thou-sands, Cairhar ! The strength of Nathos is
returned ! Thou, O aged Usnoth ! shalt not hear
that thy son has fled. I remember thy words on
Etha, when my sails began to rise — when I spread
them towards Erin — towards the mossy walls of
Tura! ' Thou goest,' he said, ' O Nathos ! to the
king of shields. Thou goest to Cuthullin, chief of
men, who never fled from danger. Let not thine
anil be feeble ; neither be thy thoughts of flight,
lest the son of Semo should say, that Etha's race i
are weak. His words may come to Usnoth, and

DAR-THULA. 323

ji account ofhisviiit

sadden his soul in the hall.' The tear was on my
fatlier's cheek. He gave this si lining sword !

" I came to Tura's bay ; but the lialls of Tura
were silent. I looked around, and there was none
to tell of the son of generous Semo. I went to
the liall of shells, where tlie arms of his fathers
hung. But the arms were gone, and aged Lamhor*
sat in tears. ' Whence are the arms of steel ? '
said the rising Lamhor. ' The light of the spear
has long been absent from Tura's dusky walls.
Come ye from the rolling sea? Or from Temora's t
mournful halls ?'

" We come from the sea," I said, " from Us-
noth's rising towers. We are the sons of Sli-
sama,:j: the daughter of car-borne Semo. Where
is Tura's chief, son of the silent hall ? But why
should Nathos ask ! for I behold thy tears. How
did the mighty fall, son of the lonely Tma ! ' He
fell not,' Lamhor replied, ' hke the silent star of
night, when it flies through darkness, and is no
more. But he Avas like a meteor that shoots into
a distant land. Death attends its dreary course.
Itself is the sign of wars. Mournful are the banks
of Lego, and the roar of streamy Lara ! Tliere

• Lamh-mhor, mighty hand.

f Temora was the residence of the supreme kings of Ireland. It is
here called mournful, on account of the death of Cormac, who was
murdered there by Cairbar, who usurped his throne.

X Slis-seamha, soft bosom- She was the wife of Usnoth, and daughter
of Semo, the chief of the is/c of mist.

3:24 DAR-THULA.

of the death of the noble CuthuUin.

the hero fell, son of the nohle Usnoth !' The hero
fell in the midst of slaugliter, I said with a bursting
sigh. His hand was strong in wai'. Death dimly
sat behind his sword.

" We came to Lego's sounding banks. We
found his rising tomb. His friends in battle are
there : his bards of many songs. Three days we
mourned over the hero : on the fourth, I struck the
shield of Caithbat. The heroes gathered around
with joy, and shook their beamy spears. Corlath
was near with his host, the fi'iend of car-borne
Cairbar. We came like a stream by night. His
heroes fell before us. When the people of the
valley rose, they saw their blood with morning's
light. But we rolled away, like %\Teaths of mist
to Cormac's echoing hall. Our swords rose to
defend the king. But Temora's halls were empty.
Cormac had fallen in his youth. The king of Erin
was no more.

" Sadness seized the sons of Erin. They slowly,
gloomily retired; like clouds that long having threat-
ened rain, vanish behind the hiUs. The sons of
Usnoth moved in their grief, towards Tura's
sounding bay. We passed by Selama. Cairbar
retired like Lano's mist when driven before the
winds. It was then I beheld thee, O Dar-thula !
like the light of Etha's sun. Lovely is that beam !
I said. The crowded sigh of my bosom rose.
Thou camest in thy beauty, Dar-thula, to Etha's
mournful chief. But the winds have deceived us,
daughter of Colla, and the foe is near."

DAR-THULA. 325

Nathos and his brothers prepare to fight Cairbar.

" Yes, the foe is near, " said tlie rushing
strength of Althos *. "I heard their clanging
arms on tlie coast. I saw the dark wreaths of
Erin's standard. Distinct is the voice of Cairbar f .
Loud as Cronila's falHng stream. He had seen
the dark sliip on tlie sea, before the dusky night
came down. His people watch on Lena's plain.
They lift ten thousand swords." " And let them
lift ten thousand swords," said Nathos, with a
smile. " The sons of car-borne Usnoth will never
tremble in danger ! Why dost thou roll with all
thy foam, thou roaring sea of Erin ? Why do ye
rustle, on your dark wings, ye whistling storms of
the sky ? Do ye think, ye storms, that you keep
Nathos on the coast ? No : his soul detains him,
children of the night ! Althos ! bring my father's
arms : Thou seest them beaming to the stai's.
Bring the spear of Semo :j:. It stands in the dark-
bosomed ship !"

He brought the arms. Nathos covered his
limbs, in all their shining steel. The stride of the

* Althos had just returned from viewing the coast of Lena, whither
he had been sent by Nathos, the beginning of the night.

t Cairbar had gathered an army to the coast of Ulster, in order to
oppose Fingal, who prepared for an expedition into Ireland to re-es-
tablish the house of Cormac on the throne which Cairbar had usurped.
Between the wings of Cairbar's army was the bay of Tura, into which
the ship of the sons of Usnoth was driven ; so that there was no possi-
bility of their escaping.

t Semo was grandfather to Nathos by the mother's side. The spear
mentioned here was given to Usnoth on his marriage, it being the cus-
tom then, for the father of the lady to give his arms to his son-in-law.
VOL. I. 2 E

326 DAR-THULA.

The undaunted bravery of Nathos and his brothers.

chief is lovely. The joy of his eyes was terrible.
He looks towards the coming of Caiibar. The
wind is rustling in his hair. Dar-thula is silent at
his side. Her look is fixed on the chief. She
strives to hide the rising sigh. Two tears swell in
her radiant eyes !

" Althos !" said the chief of Etha, " I see a cave
in that rock. Place Dar-thula there. Let thy
arm, my brother, be strong. Ardan ! we meet the
foe ; call to battle gloomy Cairbar. O that he
came in his sounding steel, to meet the son of
Usnoth ! Dar-thula ! if thou shalt escape, look not
on the fallen Nathos ! Lift thy sails, O Althos !
towards the echoing groves of my land.

" Tell the chief*, that his son fell with fame ;
that my sword did not shun the fight. Tell him
I fell in the midst of thousands. Let the joy of
his grief be great. Daughter of Colla! call the
maids to Etha's echoing hall ! Let their songs
arise for Nathos, when shadowy autumn returns.
O that the voice of Cona, that Ossian, might be
heard in my praise ! then would my spirit rejoice
in the midst of the rushing winds." " And my
voice shall praise thee, Nathos, chief of the woody
Etha ! The voice of Ossian shall rise in thy
praise, son of the generous Usnoth ! Why Avas I
not on Lena, when the battle rose ? Then would
the sword of Ossian defend thee ; or himself fall
low !"

We sat, that night, in Selma, round the strength

DAR-THULA. 327

Fingal, in his palace of Selma, foresees the fell of his heroes.

of the shell. The wind was abroad in the oaks.
The spirit of the mountain * roared. The blast
came rustlino: through the hall, and gently touched
my harp. The sound was mournful and low, like
the song of the tomb. Fingal heard it the first.
The crowded sighs of his bosom rose. " Some of
my heroes ai'e low, " said the gi'ay-haired king of
Morven ! " I hear the sound of death on the harp.
Ossian, touch the trembling string. Bid the sor-
row rise ; that their spirits may fly, Avith joy, to
Morven's woody hills !" I touched the hai-p be-
fore the king^ the sound was mournful and low.
" Bend forward from your clouds, " I said,
" ghosts of my fathers ! bend : Lay by the red
terror of your course. Receive the falling chief ;
whether he comes from a distant land, or rises
from the rolling sea. Let his robe of mist be near
his speai- that is formed of a cloud. Place an half-
extinguished meteor by his side, in the form of
the hero's sword. And, oh ! let his countenance
be lovely, that his friends may delight in his pre-
sence. Bend from your clouds, " I said, " ghosts
of my fathers ! bend !"

Such was my song, in Selma, to the lightly-
trembling hai-p. But Nathos was on Erin's shore,
surrounded by the night. He heard the voice of
the foe, amidst the roar of tumbling waves. Silent
he heard their voice, and rested on his spear !

* By the spirit of the mountain is meant, that deep and melan-
choly sound which precedes a storm ; well known to those who live in a
high country.

328 DAR-THULA.

Nathos and his brethren attack the army of Cai

Morning rose, with its beams. The sons of Erin
appear, Hke gi-ay rocks, with all their trees, they
spread along the coast. Cairbar stood in the
midst. He grimly smiled when he saw the foe.
Nathos rushed forward, in his strength ; nor could
Dar-thula stay behind. She came with the hero,
lifting her shining spear. " And AAdio are these,
in their armour, in the pride of youth ? Who
but the sons of Usnoth, Althos, and daik-haired
Arden ?"

" Come, " said Nathos, " come ! chief of high
Temora ! Let our battle be on the coast, for the
white-bosomed maid. His people are not with
Nathos ; they are behind these rolling seas. Why
dost thou bring thy thousands against the chief of
Etha ? Thou didst fly * from him in battle, when
his friends were around his spear." " Youth of
the heart of pride, shall Erin's king fight with thee ?
Thy fathers were not among the renowned, nor of
the kings of men. Are the arms of foes in their
halls ? Or the shields of other times ? Cairbar is
renowned in Temora, nor does he fight with feeble
men !"

The tear started from carbome Nathos. He
turned his eyes to his brothers. Their spears flew
at once. Three heroes lay on earth. Then the
light of their swords gleamed on high. The ranks
of Erin yield; as a ridge of dark clouds before a
blast of wind ! Then Cairbar ordered his people,

* He alludes to the flight of Cairbar from Selama.

DAR-THULA. 329

Death of Nathos aiid his brothers, and ofDai-thula

and they drew a thousand hows. A thousand ar-
rows flew. The sons of Usnoth fell in hlood.
Tliey fell like three young oaks, which stood alone
on the hill : the traveller saw the lovely trees,
and wondered how they grew so lonely : the
blast of the desert came, by night, and laid their
green heads low ; next day he returned, but they
were withered, and the heath was bare !

Dar-thula stood in silent grief, and beheld their
fall ! No tear is in her eye. But her look is
wildly sad. Pale was her cheek. Her trembling
lips broke short an half-formed word. Her dark
hair flew on wind. The gloomy Cairbar came.
" Where is thy lover now ? The car-borne chief
of Etha ? Hast thou beheld the halls of Usnoth ?
Or the dark-brown hills of Fingal ? JVIy battle
would have roared on Morven, had not the Avinds
met Dar-thula. Fingal himself would have been
low, and sorrow dwelling in Selma !" Her shield
fell from Dar-thula's arm. Her breast of snow ap-
peared. It appeared ; but it was stained with
blood. An aiTow was fixed in her side. She fell
on the fallen Nathos, like a wreath of snow ! Her
hair spreads wide on his face. Their blood is mix-
ing round.

" Daughter of Colla ! thou art low !" said Cair-
bar's hundred bards. " Silence is at the blue
streams of Selama. Truthil's * race have failed.
AVhen wilt thou rise in thy beauty, first of Erin's

* Truthil was tlie founi!er of Dar-thula's family.

330 DAR-THULA.

Song of the bards over the grave of Dar-thula.

maids ? Thy sleep is long in the tomb. The
morning distant far. The sun shall not come to thy
bed, and say, ' Awake, Dar-thula ! awake, thou
first of women ! The wind of spring is abroad.
The flowers shake their heads on the green hills.
The woods wave their giowing leaves.' Retire, O
sun ! The daughter of Colla is asleep. She will
not corne forth in her beauty. She will not move
in the steps of her loveliness !"

Such was the song of the bards, when they raised
the tomb. I sung over the grave, wdien the king
of Morven came ; when he came to green Erin to
fight Avith car-borne Cairbar !

END OFJ^L.

R. MALCOLM, PRINTER, GLASGOW.